Resisting Dimitri
by 7Becky7
Summary: It's been a long time since Rose has seen Dimitri and when Rose gets a temporary job and realises Dimitri is the boss things get... Complicated. Rose wants to leave New Zealand for the world, but can she after she re-kindles the old flame? Dimitri is hurt and Rose wants to help him. Rated 'M' because it has adult content. ALL HUMAN!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my new story that I just thought up and I think this is better than my other one so I'll be mainly focusing on this one. But it's 'M' rated! It has a lot of adult content.**

**This is in 'third person' by the way.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Rose Hathaway took the stairs at a half-run, hoping jeans with a polo shirt and Nikes were appropriate for the sporty atmosphere of the fitness centre. She bounced up into a deserted reception area and slowed to watch through the long glass wall as clients stretched, pedalled, and grunted at the various machines. One dark and long haired man finished his workout on a cross-trainer, slung a towel around his neck, and moved toward her with a loose-limbed stride.

She tried not to stare, but his dampened shorts and tank showed off a tall, sculpted body that appeared hard-disciplined and a great advertisement for the place. The nearer he got the better he looked. A month here, before she escaped from New Zealand, might be no hardship at all!

She dragged her attention away from his powerful thighs and up past the sweaty tank that showcased his gleaming chest and shoulders. Then found bristling stubble, an impatient scowl, and snapping chocolate brown eyes.

"You're the replacement temp?"

She nodded. "Rose."

"Dimitri. You made it on time. Good."

He scrubbed the towel over his hair, and Rose darted another glance downward. So this was the boss?

He got as far as saying, "If you can—" and his cell phone rang. He wrestled it from his shorts pocket, which pulled the thin fabric mouthwateringly tight, and waved a hand at the desk.

Rose took this as in invitation to sit, and watched from the swivel chair as he stalked off sounding far from pleased about something.

She waited. And she waited. Ten minutes passed before he reappeared.

In that time, she'd checked the desk drawers and stowed her bag in the bottom one which was empty apart from a box of staples. She'd answered the ever-ringing phone. Yes they were open; no, Dimitri wasn't available right now but she'd take a message; yes, their special $299 package ran until the end of the month (because she'd read the poster on the glass wall); no, Dimitri wasn't available right now but she'd make sure he phoned back as soon as possible; no, she wasn't Jill. Or Mia.

Where the hell had he got to?

He came back still barking into his phone, but now smelling sexy as sin and wearing a black suit, charcoal shirt open at the neck, and beautiful shoes. He leaned over the desk while he continued his phone conversation, raised an exasperated eyebrow at her, rummaged amongst some papers, and produced a list that he thrust in her direction.

"Okay?" he mouthed silently.

She shrugged, nodded, and handed him the phone-message slips. He jammed them in a pocket, took the stairs at a lithe run, and disappeared.

"And thank you too," Rose muttered to herself.

Rose found the list only partially helpful. In slashing black writing it bullet-pointed 'clear mail box', (where?) 'accept no calls from Olena or Greg Belikov', 'April promo', and a number of other items which looked well within her scope but lacked useful details.

As she answered the phone for about the twentieth time— 'BodyWork Fitness, Rose speaking'—a very pregnant blonde-haired woman appeared at the top of the stairs and lowered herself gingerly onto the reception-area sofa.

"Sorry," she said once Rose had concluded the call. "Meant to be earlier, but…" she patted her belly in explanation. "I'm Jill, Dimitri's old assistant."

Rose sent her a doubtful smile. Did this mean she no longer had a job?

"I thought you'd left."

"Yes, I did—three weeks ago. I'm ready to pop. I'm not Mia." She pulled an exasperated face. "She replaced me and then walked out, leaving Dimitri totally in the crap."

Rose nodded, only partially enlightened. She took the sheet of paper across to Jill. "He gave me a list of duties but it hasn't been much help so far."

"Riiiight..." Jill's lips twitched. "He meant well, but a few more details would have helped you. Second drawer down has the mailbox key. The box number's on the tag, and it's the big Marion Street depot a couple of blocks away."

"If you're here now should I go and clear it?"

"Closer to lunchtime's better. First up—coffee machine lessons. If Dimitri doesn't get his coffee he's not nice to know." She heaved herself off the sofa.

"Maybe that's why he hasn't been too welcoming yet…"

"Too much on his mind. He's launching another fitness center in Auckland next week. Sussing out Sydney for possible expansion, too. There are family things he's trying to sort with his brothers. And Mia leaving of course. God knows what else by now."

The phone intruded again.

"BodyWork Fitness, Rose speaking." She listened a few seconds. "Personal trainers, yes. Hold just a moment please."

Jill took over with the ease of long experience, and Rose learned what she could. "Got a bag?" Jill asked as she disconnected. "Follow me and I'll find you a locker."

She led the way along a carpeted corridor and waved a hand toward the rear of the building. "That's Dimitri's office—big, but no great view."

Rose saw the name Dimitri Belikov on the door. Dimitri Belikov? Something prickled in her brain.

"Rich Richmond, money-man for the whole chain," Jill continued as she passed another door. "Not an early starter." She puffed out a sigh and rubbed her lower back. "Bathrooms there, staffroom in here. The end locker's spare. If you've brought lunch, there's a fridge."

Dimitri Belikov. The name danced and shimmered in Rose's subconscious as she listened to Jill's coffee-maker instructions. Surely he couldn't be Dimitri from Grandpa's orchard? Dimitri the surly kid who didn't want to be there, didn't want to work without being paid, and definitely didn't want to be trailed around by a lonely little girl all those years ago. Was his name Belikov? Or something similar?

Comrade? Could it be him? I used to call him Comrade because he was my partner in crime. Rose continued her musings.

'Her' Dimitri had been dark-haired, too. And his hair just reached his shoulders. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, often angry. Sixteen when she'd last seen him. A squat, powerfully built boy with hormones running rampant, hair darkening his jaw and chest, and a chip on his shoulder the size of the Pacific Ocean.

She'd been totally enthralled by him.

At thirteen she'd been getting curious about boys. A glimpse of Dimitri skinny-dipping in the river on the north boundary of the orchard was a thrill beyond anything she'd ever imagined. Catching him peeing into the hedge...seeing him with his shirt off as he flourished the sprayer at the weeds around the edge of the huge packing shed...things like that had made him seem so grown-up, so out-of-bounds and fascinating.

But best of all were their times together in the dark, deserted implement shed. She'd shown him the numbers to the combination lock on the side door, and if she saw him slip in she'd shyly follow. Although he always pretended to be annoyed, she thought he was maybe pleased to have company sometimes. Because he did such dirty, exciting things.

Dimitri bounded up the stairs again soon after nine. Rose got such a fleeting look at his face that comparisons with Dimitri from the orchard were impossible.

"You want coffee?" Jill called after him.

"Yup." And he disappeared.

Rude bastard, Rose thought to herself. "Shall I make it?" She rose to her feet.

"Please."

"When's your baby due?"

"Two days ago."

Rose grimaced. "I'd better make good use of you while I have you, then."

"Bring one for each of us," Jill called after her.

The machine co-operated, the coffee looked and smelled like coffee, and she carried a mug into Dimitri's office a few minutes later. Without looking up from the keyboard he was furiously pounding, he prodded the top of the desk as an indication of where to set it down. Rose obeyed, finding no reason to review her opinion of him as unpleasantly arrogant when she received only a distracted grunt in place of thanks.

He just might be Dimitri. He's rude enough.

His jacket hung over the back of his chair, and he'd pushed his shirt-sleeves up to expose strong, dark-haired forearms. Although freshly shaven, his jaw still showed a heavy beard shadow. He'd looked tall in his shorts and tank. Too tall to be Comrade. Did boys grow much after sixteen?

"Dimitri is still working full-speed," she said to Jill as she set down their coffees.

"Does he ever thank you for anything?"

Jill tipped her head on one side. "Sometimes. He's a fair-enough boss. You always know where you are with him. He's not mean with money, and if you need time off for important stuff he never quibbles." She rubbed her bump. "Stop that," she said sternly to whoever was inside. "Do you want to see the Outwards Payments next? We do it all on-line so it's pretty straightforward. The Inwards is a bit messier because some people still insist on sending checks in the mail.

An email pinged through.

**'Rose.'**

She raised an eyebrow at Jill. "Is that what he always does?"

"You'll get used to him. He's busy."

"A 'please' would have taken half a second."

Jill grinned.

"Yes," Rose snapped from Dimitri's doorway. Her tone brought his head up, and he regarded her coolly with glinting dark brown eyes. His too-gorgeous lips quirked with slight amusement. Well, tough if he didn't like her attitude. She didn't like his either.

"Come in."

She shrugged and approached his desk.

"Take a seat."

She sat.

"You'll be clearing the mail?"

"Yes—Jill said to do it close to lunchtime."

He nodded at that and continued to inspect her. She felt sure his eyes were lasering through her shirt to check out her breasts. She cursed silently as her nipples responded to his long, candid stare, hoping the T-shirt bra would do its work and hide them.

"Should I have dressed differently?" she asked when the silence stretched too far for comfort. "I thought this would be okay."

He looked at her a little longer with those suggestive eyes. Damn but he was a hunk.

"No, you're fine like that. I'm only togged up today because I have a couple of guests for lunch. When you get the mail can you stop off and buy some sushi?"

She waited for the 'please' but it never came.

"Sushi and some decent sandwiches," he continued. "And fresh fruit. Maybe a pineapple you could slice up, or seedless grapes. There's a good place just past the mail center."

"Fine. Enough for three? Anything to drink?"

He shook his head, apparently still amused by her. One corner of his wide mouth crooked up into less than a grin, but it transformed him from forbidding to dangerously attractive. "Enough for…five?"

Earlier, memories of Dimitri in the orchard shed had made her skin tingle with long-suppressed awareness. Now her new boss's slow-burning smile had set her deliciously on edge. What was wrong with her today?

She moved on her chair, too aware of her body's reaction. "When are your guests arriving? Do you want something to drink then or food straight away?"

"Close on one. Straight away's fine, thanks." That was a real gangster grin on his face now, full of licentious intent. "Get Jill to find you some cash before you go."

"That's all?" She couldn't wait to be out of his unsettling presence.

"For now."

Oh for some high heels to flounce off in! Sneakers just didn't do it. As she turned away, she easily imagined her butt being given the same intent inspection her breasts had received.

"Guests for lunch," she said as she returned to the reception area.

"Did he say who?" Jill asked. "He's trying to swing a big Sydney deal; it must be them. You'll probably be going to Australia with him in the next week or so."

A giggle bubbled up from somewhere, and grew until Rose was laughing with genuine mirth. "Fat chance of that—I don't have a passport. I applied about a week ago so it'll be ages yet."

Jill grinned. "Don't depend on it. They come through quite fast sometimes. My sister Kelly had to renew hers for a trip to Hawaii and it was done in no time."

Pictures of palm-trees and blue ocean floated through Rose's brain. "Hawaii," she said wistfully. "That's definitely on my wish list."

"Kell's leaving in a couple of days."

"Lucky her. My parents loved traveling. They had National Geographic pages pinned up everywhere at home. They always said they'd rather travel than have a fancy house." She stopped abruptly as the pain of losing them rampaged through her yet again.

"Where did you go to?"

Rose closed her eyes for a second or two, the picture of her tall suntanned father and her much shorter mother, full of excitement and happy tears the last time she'd seen them, imprinted on her eyelids.

"I had to stay home for school," she said, trying to sound as though it hadn't mattered so much. "But they went all over the place. Australia of course. Brisbane, Darwin, right across to Perth. To Broome where the pearls are. And various places in Asia."

They'd never taken her with them. Always used her education as an excuse. Not once had they chosen to travel during the school holidays. She'd loved spending those times with Grandma and Grandpa, but even now her parents' easy desertion rankled. Couldn't they have included her just once?

"Hong Kong and Thailand," she continued. "And they were keen to see Vietnam once it opened up. Dad started building an ocean-going yacht when I was thirteen. In the yard at home."

"Awesome."

"I suppose. My older brother Christian already had a job in New York by then."

"Wow."

Rose hesitated a moment.

What the hell—she's nice. She'll understand.

She drew a deep breath. "When I was fifteen they set off on a trial voyage to Fiji. Once I'd left school we were all going to sail around the world together and see my brother on the way."

She pressed her lips together, as though it would somehow hold the hurt back.

"That must have been amazing."

She shook her head. "Not really. They never made it as far as Fiji. Simply disappeared. Got hit by a whale or bashed into a floating container at night or something. There were no storms in the area. No signal from their emergency beacon." She glanced across at Jill and found warmth in her steady gaze. "So..." She shrugged.

"Oh honey, that's tough. Fifteen. Awful."

"Yeah."

"And your brother came home after that?"

"No, I went to live on my grandparents' orchard. Then my Grandma died. Grandpa said she pined away after losing Mom, but she was always kind of delicate. They had a housekeeping lady for as long as I can remember."

"What sort of orchard?"

"Apples, up in Hawkes Bay."

"It's lovely there. Adrian and I stopped off on our honeymoon."

Rose straightened her shoulders from the despondent slump they'd settled into. "I'd often had school holidays with them because Mom worked full-time. To help fund the boat and the traveling, I guess. After a few years, Grandpa had a bad stroke and the orchard had was sold. I ended up living with him until he died. He needed someone in the house at nights. End of story."

She raised her chin and sent Jill the sort of look that dared her to offer any further sympathy.

She took the hint. "So have you just moved down to Wellington?"

"Mmm—last week. I had to clear the house out first."

Jill shook her head slightly. "No wonder you want to get away. Where are you staying now?"

"With my brother who's finally back here with one of the big New Zealand broking houses, and my sister-in-law. They have two boys who fight like crazy. It's not ideal, but it's not for long."

"Would you..." Jill stopped in mid-sentence. "Let me make a phone-call."

Another email dinged through.

**'Rose.'**

Rose rolled her eyes. "What the heck does he want now?" she asked, rising and heading toward Dimitri's office.

"Yes?" She kept the enquiry clipped short.

He looked up from a stack of papers. Again, the corner of his mouth curled, and Rose found she had to fight hard to suppress an answering smile.

"You asked if we needed anything to drink. I find we do. Some cold beers?"

He lifted a set of keys from his desk and held them out to her, shaking them so they jingled like a lure to draw her closer. "Take my car and get a chilled twelve-pack from Super Liquor. They'll be too heavy for you to carry on foot."

She stepped forward to take the keys. A flutter of unease rose in her throat; driving in Wellington wasn't the same as driving at home. She'd made it to Christian and Lissa's in her little hatchback but hadn't attempted the CBD yet. And she just bet Dimitri's car would be something expensive and damage attracting.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather Jill drove?"

"She'll never fit behind the wheel."

His smile was broader now. So he'd decided to turn on the charm to see if he could defrost her? Oh, he was so obvious!

"Brand of beer?" she demanded, more attracted than she wanted to be.

"Stellas?"

"And you're parked where?"

"Back of the building. Alley on the left."

She reached for the keys. They were hooked over his thumb, and his impatient jiggling had caused the ring to slide down past his knuckle. There was no way she could just lift them off. After a couple of futile attempts, she grabbed his hand to hold it steady and started to work the key-ring deliberately upwards.

"You've got really big hands," she said to fill the awkward silence. His flesh burned hot against hers and he made no effort to help. Holding hands with the boss on her first day wasn't what she'd planned at all. And especially not with this over-muscled, over-worked, less-than-grateful boss. "Big thumbs," she added unwisely.

"And you know what they say about men with those." His eyes flicked up to hers and his expression changed to one of deliberate innocence.

"No, of course I don't."

Skite. Men with big cocks don't have to boast.

But somehow she just knew he'd be impressive. Knew she'd be x-raying his pants as soon as he wasn't looking. Could already feel herself heating from imagining what was there.

Then she saw the scar and prickled all over.

He was definitely Comrade. No doubt about it. She remembered how he'd gotten that scar. Remembered it had been her fault he'd just about hacked off his forefinger because she'd surprised him as he'd been cutting polythene sheeting up for Grandpa.

Comrade! The shivers of old memories chased themselves up and down her spine.

He'd waved the dressing at her every time he'd seen her for days afterwards. Made her look at the stitches when he'd eased it aside the day he was going to have them removed.

Her thirteen-year-old self had peered at them with fascinated horror—wanting to see what they looked like, and wanting even more to know his finger would be whole and healthy again. She'd felt guilty and thrilled to have his attention, so she'd looked without flinching. And then embarrassed herself by pressing a kiss onto the back of his hand as an apology and a good-luck token and a shy sign of the fascination she felt for him before she'd run off.

It seemed not a lot had changed.

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**Tell me what you think so far! And I'm sure you all know how my update system works. If you don't, check my profile.  
Also, yes in this story Christian is Rose's brother (Christian Hathaway) because they have the same attitude. And also because he won't be involved... Much.**

**7Becky7**


	2. Chapter 2

**Just to clarify some things: I'm sorry but in this story Dimitri has different siblings. And his life story is different etc. I change their life story to fit my story line.****  
**

**I forgot to do this before but:  
*****DISCLAIMER: I do not own Vampire Academy (even though it's just so deliciously awesome) the jaw dropping Richelle Mead does!***

**(First and probably last) Thank you's to:**

**last. sacrific3 - Reviewing, following and favouriting! (Yes, that is the Australian spelling).  
****Adhoore Khwab - Reviewing and following and gave advice.  
****dimka's froggie - Reviewing and following and helped fix up a major (but funny) mistake in my A/N.  
****Yetafix - Reviewing and following. (Love the name).  
****Fanfictionaddict221 - Reviewing.  
blackrose1999 - Reviewing, following and favouriting.  
Twilighternproud - Reviewing and following.  
**

**To peggy: Nope, Dimitri doesn't recognise Rose because of the changes she has gone through. (Explained in this chapter).  
****And also the other Guests.**

**And also to those who followed/favourited this story. Sorry I only mentioned the Reviewers. The reason why I did the thank you's is because I didn't think this story would be a big hit. Thank you to everyone :D  
**

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**Chapter 2**

Rose sighed. Why did Dimitri have to be so... teasing?

To Rose's intense relief the keys slid free and she whisked them off his far-too-suggestive thumb.

"I'll go right now," she said, forgetting to ask what he drove before she dashed away.

_Comrade — still getting me hot and bothered._

She vowed not to tell him she'd recognized him. He hadn't recognized her, and that's how things needed to stay. Why dredge up their embarrassing past?

Remembering the shy little girl she'd been, all long brown braids and owlish glasses, she thought she had a fair enough chance of keeping up the deception for a month.

The braids and spectacles were gone, her hair now dark brown with small streaks of dark blonde. Tinted contacts made her dark eyes even darker. She looked nothing like the awkward ugly duckling from the orchard. Not that Rose had ever been ugly, it was just what she thought.

_A month. Not even that long, because he'll be away in Sydney for part of it. Two weeks. Three weeks at worst. Definitely do-able. I managed secrets longer than that when I had to keep Grandpa from worrying._

She rattled the keys as she walked past Jill. "He wants beers to go with the sushi now."

"It'll be the Sydney people then. Check there are enough paper napkins before you go out. I'll make sure the plates and glasses are clean. Although they won't bother with glasses. What is it with men and drinking straight from the bottle?" She wrinkled her nose and pulled out one of the desk drawers. "If there's beer as well, petty cash won't be enough—I'll give you the company credit card."

"You'd think he'd take them out to a bistro for lunch."

"Not if they want to work."

Rose caught something in her expression. "What?"

Jill's smile broadened. "Would you like somewhere else to live for a fortnight?"

"Where did you have in mind?"

"My sister's apartment. She needs someone to feed her cat and water a few plants while she's in Hawaii. I was going to call in, but"—she looked down at her beach-ball belly—"this one might arrive and make it difficult. My Cam would do it for her of course, but it'd be more secure to have someone living there. Lights switching on and off, blinds going up and down, mail being collected."

"A house-sitter?"

"Exactly. Will you do it?"

"Will she have me?"

"She'd love to. I just phoned her and suggested it."

Rose did a joyful little side-step, tossed the keys in the air and caught them. "Absolutely, yes!"

* * *

Dimitri sat, unmoving for once, staring into space and reviewing what had happened moments moments ago. His new P.A. was hot. She had a temper. She didn't like him. Maybe messing with her attitude would be enough fun to help take his mind off everything else.

She had great tits. A peachy butt that begged to be spanked. A spiky temper only just under control. She'd wrestled the keys off his thumb as though she was a bossy nanny and he was a small boy who needed putting in his place.

He'd like that place to be the hot juicy valley between her jeans-clad thighs.

His cock gave a lurch of agreement.

Yup, hot body, sharp brain, sharp manner. He leaned back in his leather-covered chair, giving in to his fantasy for a few minutes to take his mind off more serious matters. Maybe having her around was the distraction he needed, because right now he was totally hurt, furious, and confused. For thirty years he'd been made to live a lie, and if he hadn't been so keen to donate blood, marrow, anything to help his brother's tiny daughter battle her cancer, he might never have found out.

His heart had thumped frantically, and the scalding bile had risen in his throat when he'd been told by old Doc Latimer that he probably wouldn't be an ideal donor because of the adoption.

Adoption? Erin wasn't adopted.

He'd seen Hannah's belly growing ever larger. He'd joked with a relieved and proud Hal once the baby had been safely delivered.

"Erin's not adopted," he'd blurted. And Doc Latimer had realized the enormity of the bomb he'd just dropped, stammered with shock for a few moments, and then found the wisdom to know there was no way to back-track. He'd reached out and clasped Dimitri's arm, and said very quietly, "But you were, Dimitri. My God, they never told you? You never suspected? I'm so sorry to have done this to you. You have to talk with your parents."

So he was not Erin's uncle. Or Hal and Tony Belikov's brother. Or Olena and Greg Belikov's son.

Adopted? Why the fuck hadn't they told him? His emotions raged through baffled incomprehension to freezing cold denial.

Then to ashamed relief that he wasn't really part of the less-than-honest Belikov clan.

Finally to blazing anger that they'd duped him for so long; hadn't they thought him important enough to know his true heritage?

Talk to his 'parents'? What a joke. Right now he wanted nothing to do with them—had even included a note on his new P.A.'s task-sheet he wouldn't accept their calls. Not that they were likely to contact him. They rarely did.

Last Friday afternoon had torn him to bloodied shreds.

He'd spent half the weekend on the internet, searching for help.

Found and gone as far as possible there, but someone needed to be searching for him before he could be matched up with them. The same with the Jigsaw people.

No one was searching for Dimitri Belikov.

No one missed their son enough to try and re-establish contact.

Just when everything had been coming right—the expansion of his fitness centre empire, the refurbishment of the big old house by the sea—life had shot him yet another lightning-bolt.

* * *

Rose jogged into the alley brandishing the keys. Surely if she beeped the remote, something would light up and identify itself? She surveyed the line of vehicles in the big parking lot and knew instantly it would be the low-slung black Ferrari.

'Hi there honey,' the beautiful old car whispered back. She clenched her teeth. How difficult was that going to be to drive after her mild-mannered hatch?

She found it needed almost no accelerator and a very firm hand, but she made it to the liquor store without incident. Beers on board, she collected the mail and food and carried everything back into BodyWork in time to find Dimitri bent over the reception desk, pants stretched taut around the best butt she'd ever seen, long legs showing hints of the strong muscles his shorts had displayed earlier that morning. Who'd have thought Comrade would turn out so hot?

Well, maybe her if she was honest. Because there'd been something earthy and dangerously attractive about him, even as a boy. That last summer when she'd been a shy thirteen and he a surly sixteen had been both paradise and agony. She'd wanted constantly and desperately to see him, and then been embarrassed whenever she had.

Now she somehow managed to ignore him and breezed on by to the staffroom to set her load down. A couple of the others were there, grabbing a bite before the busy lunchtime rush of clients.

"For me?" Jarrod suggested, making a playful swat at the beer.

"Sushi—my favorite," Heidi teased.

"You should be so lucky. Where will I put this?"

"There's a bar-fridge in Dimitri's office." Jarrod eyed the bottles again. "He wouldn't miss just one hmm, would he?"

"Yes _he_ would," Dimitri said, far too close behind her. Rose froze for a moment but then swung around and faced him. He looked relaxed and too darn gorgeous — not at all worried about his beers being under siege. He lifted the heavy pack as though it weighed a few ounces. "Bring the food through as well Rose, you can't trust these vultures," he said, switching on the charm he seemed to have such unnerving control over.

Once again, she found herself in his office, this time with the door closed so he could open the fridge properly.

He squatted to peer inside it, and Rose swallowed as the fabric of his pants pulled tautly around the serious strength of his long thighs. He reached in to move a carton of juice. His shoulders flexed under the thin charcoal shirt. Big shoulders, now so much more defined and powerful than when he'd been a boy.

It was hard to rip her eyes away, and when she did, it was to admire the length of his back, all the way down to the black leather belt cinching his hips. He looked much leaner around the waist now his adolescent body had grown to manhood. She conjured up a present-day flash of him skinny-dipping at Grandpa's old orchard property. She wouldn't stay hiding in the bushes and spying this time around!

Dimitri pulled the beer pack open and began stacking bottles inside the fridge.

Rose dragged her brain back to the food. "Leave room for the sushi. The sandwiches don't matter as much."

He turned and grinned over his shoulder. She tried to tamp down the attraction by reminding herself of his sulky insistence as a boy, his arrogant lack of thanks earlier in the morning.

"Yeah, we won't get through the whole dozen beers," he said. "Or if we do, we won't get much work done."

"So what's your meeting about?" she asked, trying for businesslike interest.

"Probable locations. Franchising versus outright ownership. There are pros and cons for both."

"In Sydney?"

One eyebrow lifted.

Maybe it was none of her business? "Jill mentioned it."

"Sydney for starters. Then Melbourne and Brisbane, all going well. Followed by some of the smaller centres."

"And after that, the world?"

"West coast of the U.S. anyway. We've got the formula right, so why not?"

Rose saw the blaze of ambition and determination in his eyes. She handed him the trays of sushi and he slid them onto a shelf. His strong forearms flexed as skin moved over muscle.

She sighed. The annoying boy from her childhood still held a dangerous fascination for her. But she wanted no romantic entanglements, no other person intruding on the life that had finally become all hers after Grandpa's sad, slow passing.

At last she had no-one to be responsible for, no-one to answer to. She'd longed for freedom during the last six years. Now her brain fizzed with possibilities for the future.

Those possibilities didn't include Dimitri Belikov. The moment her passport arrived, she'd be off to see some of the places her parents had ripped out of the travel magazines and pinned to the walls at home. The Greek Islands. The Nile. Paris. New York where she had contacts through Christian. Sweden, to meet Grandpa's cousins. Brazil. Uruguay. To wherever in the world called her most strongly.

There was money from her parents' home, invested by her financially-savvy brother for their mutual benefit, and now a share from Grandpa's estate as well. Enough for a couple of years of blissful independence and still some for a deposit on a house when she returned. She'd promised herself this for so long, fuelled by her parents' early travel ambitions, and reinforced by her own itching need to get away from New Zealand and see what the rest of the huge world had to offer.

The last thing she needed was a lover, and Dimitri was the last man it could possibly be—a bad-tempered flirt who expected everyone to ask 'how high?' when he said 'jump'.

"Shall I bring the plates in?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine."

Okay, so he was all business again. Relief flowed over her and she relaxed a little. That was good. That was excellent, because for a few minutes there her determination had been wavering.

She opened the door and fled.

Jarrod and Heidi sauntered away from the staffroom as she returned. Both about her own age. Jarrod stood very tall—an ideal basketball player.

Heidi's more muscular build came from the aerobics classes she regularly led. Rose had watched through the glass wall as Heidi put a group of panting, glistening housewives through a punishing mid-morning routine.

A rummage through the cupboards under the counter produced a respectable-looking tray. Rose remembered how she used to take Grandma a lunch tray to her room sometimes. Poor Grandma, who'd never seemed really well. The housekeeper, Silvia, fussed over her incessantly, preparing special foods with strange-sounding names, muttering soft encouragement to her to eat more, eat more.

She set the tray down and searched for plates. She stacked four matching white ones on it, thinking again of the orchard days when she used to spend school vacations there. The last time she'd seen Comrade — Dimitri, she corrected herself—had been thirteen years ago. Half her life. No wonder he hadn't recognized her.

_The blue paint on the implement shed door had faded almost to grey in the sunlight. She showed him shyly how the numbers on the padlock turned around until they told her birthday—and then how it magically opened. She knew they were out of sight from the house and the packing shed. Feeling like a clever thief, she pushed the door and they slid in, quiet as shadows, closing it with care behind them again._

_She wasn't being bad._

_It was always dark and quiet inside, a mysterious place full of machinery smells. The corrugated iron walls and roof creaked and crinked in the wind and sun._

_They roamed among the hydra ladders, mowers, tractors and other machinery. Hid and found each other, laughing quietly, talking in muffled voices because it felt like a secret._

_Birds nested in the rafters, and their babies set up a furious hopeful cheeping when the mothers rustled in through the gaps with food._

"_I wish I was up higher so I could see them," she said. Without warning, Dimitri grabbed her under the arms and lifted her, setting her down on one of the big tractor tires so she was taller than he was. How amazing he was strong enough to do that. He held her there until she was steady, and pulled his hands away slowly, brushing them across her chest as he removed them._

"_You're starting to grow...breasts."_

"_I'm not!" Her face went all hot and embarrassed._

"_Yes, look." He pointed to the soft buds, and then touched._

_Rose gazed at him in agony. She wasn't! She couldn't be. Her mother said she didn't need a bra yet. "I'm not," she quavered. "Not like some of the girls at school."_

"_Maybe not, but they're starting. Can I see?"_

"_Noooooo..."_

"_Let me look. Please Roza." His eyes were big and dark in the dim light. He didn't have a Russian accent but still used her Russian nickname. If the birds were making any noise, she couldn't hear it now because she could see and hear only Dimitri._

_He stood so close that the front of his body pressed her feet against the tractor wheel. Soft denim brushed against her bare legs._

_He reached down and pushed at his jeans, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Then she could feel more than just denim. He'd gone lumpy, and his breathing was funny._

"_Let me look," he asked again, hands hovering close, but not quite touching her as though he knew it was wrong._

_Overcome with confusion she leaned forward the tiny distance until her old pink T-shirt pressed against his palms._

_All manner of thoughts ricocheted around her brain._

_'This is what men and ladies do.'_

_'This is what pop-songs are about.'_

_'This is what Marilyn Strang's sister did, and now she's having a baby.'_

_She jerked back._

"_No. We mustn't."_

"_Let me see them." His thumbs bridged the small gap again and he rubbed softly. He smelled of dry grass and salty perspiration and fruit candy._

_She would have leaned away but she might have overbalanced, and his touch was the nicest feeling, and..._

"_Look." He was smiling, and Dimitri never smiled._

_She glanced down, and even though it was a scorching hot day, she now had little peaks like in wintertime._

"_Let me kiss them."_

_The big main door gave a sudden rattle and the electric motor switched on. In an instant he had his hands around her waist, had lifted her down, and they were both rushing to the side door before the main one crawled up far enough to reveal them. In the bright blinding daylight, Dimitri somehow threaded the padlock back into the latch and twirled the numbers around as the big door continued its noisy climb._

_He pressed himself against the wall, swearing, and pushing her away._

_After a few seconds of being ignored, Rose walked around the corner of the shed._

"_Hi Grandpa. What are you doing?"_

"_Getting the mower out so Dimitri can make a start between the trees. Have you seen him anywhere?"_

"_Not for a while." She scuffed at the gravel with her sandal, unable to look him in the eye. All she could think of was how desperately she wanted to be back in the implement shed, doing more exciting exploring with Comrade._

* * *

**Please leave a review! Thanks to all who reviewed last time :D**

**Also, this story will have Australian spelling which is only a tiny bit different to American spelling and it's pretty much like the British. And I'm Australian, so tough. XD**

**7Becky7**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know this is a bit short but bear with me! I thought the action introduced here was enough :D**

**Again thank you to everyone who has been supporting me, this has been really fun to write!**

***DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Vampire Academy. The sexy Richelle Mead does.***

**To Guest: Yeah, I'm quite new. I've only been here for just under a month (and started writing 13 days ago), thanks though! :D**

**Tribute to blackrose1999:**** For making me laugh so hard I fell off my chair (and I have a scrape right above my eye to prove it) with the review on the last chapter. It was so hilarious! XD****  
**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Rose leaned against the staff room table, remembering how the games had slowly escalated. Yes, she'd eventually shown him her newly-budding breasts. Let him touch them and rub her bare skin so they could both watch the tiny pink nipples stand up. Allowed him to kiss them, and once to try sucking.

She'd finally given in to his insistent coaxing and felt him through his jeans on the last day of his vacation, marvelled at the big shape he kept hidden there, rubbed her fingers up and down to work out what he looked like, and then not understood when he'd gasped and pushed her hand away, and sworn a lot, and dragged a handkerchief out of his pocket and stuffed it down inside his waistband.

What had she done?

No way would she admit to being Rose from the orchard. How could they work together if they had those strange games hanging between them? The only option was to ignore the whole thing, complete her one-month contract, and slip quietly away.

She set four tumblers, some forks and a stack of paper napkins on the tray, and carried it through to his office.

"Will you be okay if I take the first lunch-break?" Jill asked. "I need to put my feet up for a while." She glanced down to her swollen ankles.

Rose's gaze followed, and she felt instantly contrite. Between discovering who Dimitri really was, driving his daunting car, and scrambling to learn as much as she could about the fitness centre, she'd not given Jill's welfare enough thought.

"Fine," she insisted, embarrassment no doubt showing on her face. "Is there anywhere here you can rest?"

"Rich has a really nice recliner chair in his room, one with a pop-up footrest. He won't mind me taking it over for a while. I know he's going to be number crunching in with Dimitri until the Aussies turn up." She heaved herself to her feet and waddled away.

"Can I bring you a drink?" Rose called after her. "Tea, coffee, water?"

"Black tea, no sugar."

"It's yours. I bought a couple of extra sandwiches while I was out. Want one?"

"As long as it's not tuna."

"It's not."

She'd no sooner delivered the tea and chicken salad sandwich when another email dinged through.

'**Rose'.**

She pressed Save and breathed out hard.

Now what? Rose wondered as she walked to Dimitri's office and opened the door.

Dimitri leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. Far too relaxed for a man with an important business meeting approaching.

"Yes?" She waited.

"Your CV says shorthand?"

"I was hoping to take up journalism but family circumstances put a stop to it."

"But you can fake it?"

"I don't have to fake it—I'm perfectly competent."

Her body buzzed as a lazy smile spread across his face, his very good teeth gleamed white against his tanned skin, and the corners of his eyes crinkled into amused lines.

_Comrade, if you'd looked at me like that you could have done anything you wanted._

"Excellent," he purred. "Jill can look after reception and you can be our hostess."

The euphoria balloon punctured. So she was reduced to a waitress now?

"And take the minutes of the meeting," he added, possibly sensing she was about to object.

"Aren't you recording it?"

"Yup, but we'll out-number them if we have you as well."

Rich the accountant looked up from his laptop and guffawed at that. "Always the tactician, Dimitri."

"Use every advantage."

Rose glanced down at her jeans. "I'm not exactly dressed for the part."

"No...a little black suit and high heels is more the story, but beggars can't be choosers."

"Who's the beggar?"

Dimitri's grin broadened still further. "Me in this case. Got a little black suit and high heels you can race home and slip into, Rose?"

"Are you _serious_?"

"I wasn't, but if you're offering?"

Rose fumed while he lounged back, challenging her with that damn grin.

"It's too far away. I'd never get there and back in time."

He tossed her the car keys.

"Try. Let's do a snow-job on them."

This brought another bray of laughter from Rich.

"And we'll be wearing ties," Dimitri insisted.

"Don't have one with me," Rich said.

"Good thing I've got several here then."

Rose caught Rich's astounded expression and smirked. "You'll have to get someone else to look after reception for a while. Don't ask Jill — she's done too much work today already. Maybe Heidi or Megan are free?" And she left in a hurry.

_God, I must be crazy!_

There was an element of fun to it though. She didn't have 'a little black suit' but she certainly had other clothes that would look the part.

Maybe Lissa had a suit? Or several?

On impulse, she pulled out her phone while the traffic lights stayed stubbornly red.

Yes, Lissa was home, still coughing with the cold she'd caught sometime in the last few days.

Yes, she had suits. Yes, she'd have a look right away and expect Rose in ten minutes.

From the expression on Lissa's carefully made-up face, she hadn't expected the snarling black Italian boy-toy though. Her eyebrows shot halfway to her hairline as Rose barrelled up the driveway, and she dropped the secateurs she'd been dead-heading the late roses with.

"Darling — how...impressive," she said, pulling her woollen scarf more tightly around her throat.

"Need to be quick," Rose responded, sprinting in through the open front door.

To her credit, Lissa had already laid two suits on the bed. Plus sheer black pantyhose, a demure white blouse, a silky black camisole, and a pair of killer Manolos.

"Not these," Rose said with regret, glancing at the size and handing back the divine shoes. "They'll be too big."

"They're too tight on me, so you never know?"

She unlaced her Nikes and peeled off her socks and jeans.

"Nasty sock-marks around your ankles," Lissa commented.

"With any luck they'll disappear by the time I get back." she replied, rubbing at them energetically. "I don't know why I'm even doing this — I must be mad."

"You've brightened up my day, that's for sure," her sister-in-law said. She pointed to the suits. "That one's a size smaller."

"I'll try it first then." Rose stepped into the skirt and zipped it up. It fitted beautifully. "How long since you wore this?" She gave the waistband a suspicious tug.

Lissa had already been pink in the face, but Rose suspected that was a blush appearing.

"It's Donna Karan. It was a little snug when I bought it last year in New York darling, but how could I resist?"

"Have you ever worn it?"

The averted eyes told the story.

"Let's give it an outing then."

She checked her reflection in the mirror. Shorter would have been better, but still, not bad.

"You could turn the waist over," Lissa suggested, obviously thinking the same thing. "Just keep the jacket done up."

Rose rolled the waist over, pulled off her polo shirt, and slid into the camisole. "Or hide it with this."

She smoothed it down, slipped the jacket on, and shot her reflection an approving glance. "Too good for a P.A."

"Not in a top corporate environment." Obviously Lissa knew all about those from Christian. "Would pearls be too much?"

"Yes, but let's try them and be sure."

She wriggled into the pantyhose while Lissa found her pearls. Then she slid into the shoes.

They were wonderful. Black glace kid with heels higher than she'd ever worn, and only a little too big.

"I've got some of those gel inserts somewhere," Lissa said, digging around in a drawer. She handed them over, and Rose tried again. Brilliant.

"Well," she said, studying the total picture. "I think I absolutely look the part."

Lissa draped the pearls around her neck.

"No," they squealed in unison.

Rose took another moment to review her appearance. Her legs were now longer, slimmer, and shadowed with smoke from the sheer pantyhose.

When she crossed them, she'd send the men a potent 'I'm gorgeous but don't you dare touch me' message.

She'd never risk driving in the mile-high Manolos, but if she wore something else and changed in the car-park, that would be fine. She grabbed a pair of flat sandals.

Her reflection told her she looked prim and classy. Rich and snooty. The plunging lace-trimmed top of the camisole could easily be Victoria's Secret underwear. She fastened one button of the jacket. Yes, just a hint of lace.

"And some of this delicious 'Siren Red'," Lissa insisted. Rose held still for the scarlet lip-gloss. Lissa applied it with a generous hand and then misted Rose's cleavage with Ysatis. "Good to go," she said, laughing at the slang she'd no doubt picked up from one of her sons.

Rose picked her way down the stairs, changed into the sandals on the front porch, and unlocked the car. It was still just shy off one o'clock.

* * *

Dimitri reached forward, shook hands with his visitors, and introduced them to Rich. They could either make him a lot of money or save him a lot of money. Both were good.

"Rod — great to meet you at last. Glen — nice to see you again, buddy."

Where the hell was Rose? Two nasty possibilities occurred to him. Had she crashed his car? Or been so offended by his suggestion of dressing like a 'proper' secretary she'd walked out, never to return?

Damn it, he'd only been joking.

He showed Rod and Glen through to his office, worrying about what had become of her. Was this one more disaster on top of little Erin's tragic illness, Julie's defection, and Doc Latimer's shattering bombshell? How much more did a man need?

"As we're working, I thought beer rather than wine?" The others agreed and snapped briefcases open. Dimitri turned toward the bar-fridge.

His pulse hiccupped and slowly resumed its former rhythm.

Rose glided through the doorway looking like something from a Paris catwalk. Legs up to her armpits. Neckline down to her belly button. Lips in a hot red pout.

The black suit of armour said 'don't touch'. But everything else sent the opposite message. Where had the outdoorsy girl in casual clothing gone?

"Good afternoon gentlemen," she murmured, taking the last chair. She slid one endless leg over the other, exposing a long stretch of toned thigh, set her steno pad on her knee, and licked her pencil.

"Ready when you are." She gazed around the circle of men. "Or should I serve your lunch first?"

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**Like the action? Sorry I left that tiny cliff hanger :P**

**Nah, I'm not sorry. Hee hee.**

**Could we hit more reviews this time? I got 10 for the first chapter then 4 for the second. I like your reviews :D**

**7Becky7**


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, I'm sorry this is kinda short (but longer than the prevous chapter). It's because of the ending XD**

**I got way more reviews this time (even more than the first chapter). Thanks guys :D**

**Thank you to everyone for the continued support, I really appreciate it and it helps me write faster, even though I've enjoyed writing this.**

***DISCLAIMER: You know Richelle Mead owns this.***

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**Chapter 4**

Eight eyes bored into her, but she saw only Dimitri's. They flashed with the same hot attention he'd riveted on her in the implement shed. The same fierce masculine hunger that even as a young girl she'd found thrilling.

"Yes, lunch first." Husky and soft.

It sounded like a threat.

As though he was lying in wait, like a stealthy sun-dappled tiger.

Intensely aware of him now, she rose from her chair and began to distribute plates and napkins to the four men, balancing somewhat precariously on the tall heels, and hoping she wasn't bending over too far in the shortened skirt. Jill had been right about his office—only a view over the back parking lot, but big. With a ring of comfortable chairs surrounding a large low table well to the side of his desk.

She brought four bottles of beer from the fridge and set one down beside each plate. Then retrieved the sushi selection and colourful multi-layered sandwiches and grapes, and placed them in the centre of the table.

There was a collective grab for the beers.

"There are plenty more," she said, resuming her chair, crossing her legs again, and taking up her notebook.

"No lunch for you?" Dimitri asked.

"I had a sandwich with Jill earlier."

_And you didn't say I'd be included._ Rose mentally thought.

The men ate, starting their discussion with sports teams and the never-ending rivalry between Australia and New Zealand. Slowly they moved to business matters and Rose began to take notes.

Dimitri rose to get more beers a little later. He set them on the table, picked up the last piece of sushi, and moved to her side. He held the little roll to her lips, and when she opened her mouth to object, he tucked it inside, pushing one finger in further than necessary. Rose bit down on it and held him trapped for a few seconds. Their eyes met—hers furious, his amused. He was demonstrating ownership in front of the other three men. Well she wasn't having that! As soon as she could speak she said, "You'll spoil my appetite for a special dinner out tonight."

"A celebration?" Rich asked, keen eyes observing the by-play between Dimitri and herself.

"Yes, I'm moving in with Kelly."

She hoped Dimitri didn't remember Kelly was Jill's sister's name. No—let him conjure up a handsome hunk with an even better body than his own. Let him stew about the possibility of her sharing a bed with someone else. He'd put her up to this silly game and he could cope with the consequences.

His brows lowered and his eyes sharpened.

_Good. Serves you right._

"Would anyone like tea or coffee?" she asked, reverting to gracious hostess mode. She rose to tidy the table so they could lay their papers out.

The meeting rolled on. Australian Rod was a Realtor, with properties of interest to Dimitri. She heard Bondi, Coogee, and Manly mentioned—all beach suburbs where people wanted beautiful bodies. But could he get a bite? Dimitri played it carefully, committing himself to nothing. The discussion flowed back and forth for another hour.

Finally, they wound to a close. It was all very genial, very optimistic, and absolutely not finalized. Rose suppressed a grin; Dimitri was good. No wonder he'd done so well with his businesses.

"Come and look at Sleeping Beauty," Rich said a few minutes later, beckoning them along to his office.

They peered in. Jill lay sound asleep in the recliner chair, face flushed, dark hair in disarray.

"She shouldn't still be working," Rose whispered. "Her baby's already overdue."

"Best P.A. I ever had," Dimitri said. "And when she heard Mia had walked out on me, she insisted she'd help someone new settle in."

"She needs to go home."

"I'll take you both." He jingled his car-keys.

Rose glanced at her watch. It was less than three-thirty.

"You started early and you missed your lunch-break."

"Thank you. But who'll look after things here?"

"Whoever hears the phone will grab it. Anything else can wait until tomorrow." He walked across to Jill and joggled her shoulder. "Come on Snoozie. On your feet. I'm taking you home."

"What?" Jill said blankly, drifting awake, looking horrified when she discovered the time. Her sheepish expression set them all laughing.

She and Rose collected their bags from the staff lockers and progressed carefully down the stairs. Rose had had quite enough of the Manolos, and was grateful for the ride. Jill still looked pinkly embarrassed from napping so long.

"Oh My God!" she exclaimed, finally noticing Rose's change of image. Her jaw dropped and stayed that way.

"It's only for fun. Dimitri joked about wanting someone who looked like a serious secretary for his meeting, so I called his bluff."

"I need to get my figure back so I can wear clothes like that…"

"They're not mine—my sister-in-law bought them in New York."

Jill rolled her eyes. "I'm not aiming that high. Anything with an actual waist will do."

By the time they reached the sidewalk, Dimitri had driven around to the front entrance. The car sat there growling like a restrained and annoyed animal. Rose squeezed into the back and Dimitri helped Jill into the front. Rose caught Dimitri's eyes in the mirror and held his gaze boldly, brave in her expensive new disguise.

"Hot," he mouthed. Shivers of pleasure ran down her spine. Then he was all business again. "Okay, Karori for you Jill. Where to, Rose?"

"Wadestown, so it's on the way."

He eased out into the traffic.

"Eight-thirty tomorrow?" he tossed over his shoulder as she alighted a few minutes later. "I want to go through your meeting notes to start with."

Next morning she managed something a little nicer than jeans and a polo. With the weather still just warm enough, she chose her short white linen skirt and topped it with a long-sleeved scoop-necked cinnamon tunic with a line of tiny white buttons down the front. Found her wedges with the rope weaving and ankle-ties. And told herself she was definitely not dressing up for Dimitri.

She arrived a few minutes early and he appeared from the main studio, once again in shorts and tank, damp and dangerous.

"Sorry—won't be long," he said.

"Take your time. You're the boss."

He raised an appreciative eyebrow at the length of her skirt and sauntered off to the showers.

She watched his loose athletic stride. Yes, he was strong and muscular, but it was a lean streamlined body all the same. No wonder he'd looked good in yesterday's tailored trousers. There was broadness in his shoulders and chest, strength in his arms and thighs, but his torso was trim and his hips narrow. His wet tank clung to the lines of muscle either side of his spine. Her eyes devoured him until he disappeared.

The phone rang just in time to stop her drooling all over the floor. "BodyWork Fitness. Rose speaking."

It was Jill. "Can you talk for a moment?"

"Yes, no trouble. Dimitri's just heading for the shower."

"Hhhhmmmmm," Jill sighed theatrically. "That's something I'm going to miss. Oh well, my loss, your gain."

Rose gave a non-committal laugh.

"Anyway, Kelly rang. She's spending tonight at her boyfriend's place so they can go to the airport together early tomorrow. Do you want to move in this evening?"

Rose took a deep breath. Freedom. Her own space away from Christian's incessant sports TV, Lissa's gossipy chat, and their sons' sniping over the dinner table.

"Yes, any time suits me fine. Tonight would be wonderful."

"Okay, I'll see you mid-morning with the key. You'll be busy with Dimitri for a while?"

"So it seems. No baby yet?"

"No—but I'm starting to feel...interesting."

"God!" Rose yelped. "Don't come in. I can cope."

Jill burst into cheerful laughter.

Dimitri appeared a few minutes later, long legs in black jeans, broad shoulders in white T-shirt, grin surrounded by sexy black stubble. Rose tried so hard not to stare.

She brandished her steno pad. "Do you need a few minutes before we start?"

"Now's good."

"Coffee?"

"Always."

Sighing to herself, she trailed him along the corridor. His back view looked every bit as edible as his front.

That evening she carried her bags to the elevator, pressed the button for the fifth floor, and let herself into the apartment. A slim little tabby immediately wriggled out of the cat door onto the balcony and stood there glaring at her.

Rose drew the air into her lungs as though it was French perfume. Paradise. Her own place for a while. No Grandpa to worry about any more. No Lissa and Christian and the boys to fit in with. Peace and quiet—or her own choice of music. Endless possibilities.

She discovered one big bedroom with a luxurious en suite bathroom, a nicely set up study with a sofa-bed, an airy living area with the kitchen in the corner, and a small guest bathroom with laundry facilities. All painted white. A sheet of paper lay on the kitchen counter with instructions for the cat, the Kentia palm, an African violet, and two begonias.

She'd no sooner stowed her first bag of clothes away when a sharp rat-tat-tat thudded on the door. Jill?

She opened it and found Dimitri. Caught her breath.

"How—"

"—did I know you were here? I told you Jill was the best P.A. I ever had. The staff address file is right up to date."

Rose tried to suppress a smile. "And how did you get into the building?"

"Waited until someone came out and gallantly held the door open for her."

"So much for security," she grumped.

Dimitri's lips twitched, and he proffered the bottle of wine he held. "Housewarming."

She shook her head. "I'm just settling in, Dimitri. I haven't even met the cat yet." She pushed at the door.

One booted foot stopped it.

"Please?" he asked.

"Take your foot away."

She was amazed and relieved when he did. But he made no move to leave, and the expression on his face became ragged.

"What?" she asked.

"I could really do with someone to talk to. And I think it needs to be a woman."

She sent him a withering look. "I'm sure you have dozens at your disposal."

"But not to talk with."

Okay, I asked for that.

"Why me?" She shot him a narrow-eyed glare.

"No baggage. No axe to grind. Someone neutral."

A prickle of unease ran down her spine. For sure he didn't look his usual self. She opened the door a little wider. "What's wrong, Dimitri?"

He held the wine out towards her again. "Pour me a drink first, huh?"

He sounded so weary she almost put out a hand to help him into the apartment.

The third cupboard she opened contained glasses. Dimitri meantime had noticed the cat still looking agitated outside. He crossed to the cat door, tilted it open, and started to sweet-talk the little tabby. In no time, he was tickling under its chin.

"She's called Zorro."

"She?"

"I suspect someone made a sex mistake."

Dimitri's slow burn of a smile alerted her to what she'd just said. "We all do that, now and again," he said, nodding sagely.

"Speak for yourself."

"Never made a sex mistake, Rose? You're a rare woman."

She set the glasses on the counter with more of a thump than she intended. Dimitri left the cat and opened the wine for her.

"What do you need a woman's opinion on?" she asked, intrigued despite her decision to stay well clear of him.

"It's a family thing," he said as he poured. "Women are better at that side of life."

"Maybe. I don't have much family. Only one brother, and he's a lot older." She refused to think of the sister she might have had—the tiny baby who'd died eighteen months after Christian was born. Was that why there'd never been other children?

Until her. The late mistake who'd apparently messed everything up.

"I'm a bad choice," she added.

"Parents?"

She thought for a moment before answering, not wanting to give her identity away. It would be too embarrassing working for him if he knew she was silly little Rose from all those years ago.

"Both dead."

"Damn. Sorry I asked. But here's the thing. Your parents influence who you are—right? Set the standards. Pass on their genes and their strengths and weaknesses."

Rose moved across to the chrome and leather sofa, hoping he'd take the matching chair. To her annoyance he chose to sit beside her, legs spread apart, denim clad knee touching her bare one.

She placed her wine on the glass topped coffee table and eased away a little. God, this close he had her vibrating as though she was some sort of scientific instrument measuring sexual attraction. And he was way up there on the scale.

Eleven out of ten at least.

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**Whoo! Hopefully I try for a longer chapter next time XD**

**Thanks again for all the support I've been given. Should I do a lemon sometime? I don't know.**

**How was the word 'lemon' created anyway?**

**7Becky7**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here! I made a longer chapter this time XD**

**To Guest: Dimitri is more of a one night stand guy, but he still dates. Well, from Rose's point of view, it's pretty embarrassing past for her, but that is minor and I'm not going to drag it out like you're afraid of, I don't like that either. :P**

**To all Guests: I recommend you make an account for yourselves so I don't have to reply via each chapter, and I can just PM you individually.**

***DISCLAIMER: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy, not me.***

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Rose groaned inwardly and tried to concentrate. "Yes of course. They'd pass everything on. Half from each parent, unless one had more dominant characteristics. I think two brown eyed people can't produce a truly blue eyed baby for instance."

She reached out and took a desperate gulp of the deep red wine. It slid down her throat like a blessing. Why was she talking babies with him? "I might have that wrong about the blue eyes, but—"

"No, I get the picture. Same with body types. We get people at work who have a real hard time bulking up no matter what we do for them, and then we find their parents and siblings are the same build. 'Slow gainers' we call them." He rasped a hand over his chin. "Sure we can tone them and reshape them to some extent, but if they're naturally lean they can't grow muscles like watermelons. One of my brothers..." He stopped. Sipped. Started again. "Someone who I thought was my brother until Friday is like that." He shot her a direct anguished look. Pain blazed hot in his dark eyes.

"What do you mean, your brother until Friday?" Had he died? Somewhere along the way she'd lost the direction of the conversation. Could sense something huge was wrong, but had no idea what.

Suddenly big confident Dimitri looked sixteen again. Even less than sixteen.

His glass made a faint clatter as he set it down on the hard table with an unsteady hand. He dragged in a deep breath, trembling, obviously affected by some intense emotion, and directed his next words at the floor. "I'm just on thirty, Rose. Doing okay businesswise. Nice car. No trouble getting money or women."

"I'm so glad," she needled.

He glanced across at her. The corners of his beautiful mouth pulled down in a tight line. "Yeah—sorry. But you get the drift. Life is fine and then everything explodes."

"On Friday?"

He reached again for his glass and took another swig of wine. His Adam's apple convulsed and then settled back into place as he put the glass down yet again. He drew another deep, deliberate breath. "I found out on Friday that my parents aren't my parents and my brothers aren't my brothers, and my name is not my name." He swallowed again.

Rose suspected he'd gulped back tears.

"Adopted?" she whispered.

"Adopted and never told. Fucking cruel — because where does that leave me now?" He buried his head in his hands for a few seconds, dragging his fingers to and fro through his hair until it was thoroughly mussed and tousled.

She set her wine aside and turned. Slid an arm over his chest, around his shoulder, and pressed herself against him in a comfort hug. His arms came around her in return, and deep tremors of desperation racked him as he gripped her.

"Who the hell am I?" he rasped in her ear. "How can I find out thirty years later when the trail's gone cold?"

"Ssshhhh," she murmured, rocking him as though he was a child. There was relief in not having to look into his wounded eyes, but his grief burned so strongly there were tears in her own now. She'd be no help to him collapsing in a sobbing heap. She nestled her face a little closer, tucking her cheek against the strip of warm skin above his T-shirt. His scent was salty, earthy, ocean-fresh.

"Wasn't going to do this," he muttered. "Just wanted to talk about it with someone who can help me look at it from a bit of distance."

He tensed against her, almost as though he might throw her aside.

"Sssshhhh," she said again, clinging tighter.

"But shee-itt! It matters more than I thought it possibly could. My bastard of a father'll be behind this. No-good scum. Twisted as a damn corkscrew."

He dropped a kiss onto her hair. Did he even know he'd done it? She let him talk on to see if she could find something to respond helpfully to.

"It's like I'm suddenly no-one. Now quite a few things make sense. They always treated my brothers differently from me. Softer." His hard chest rose and fall against her as he sighed.

"My 'so-called' brothers. Jesus!"

She rubbed to and fro over his tense shoulder, willing him to relax and let her comfort him. "How did you find out? Are you really sure?"

"Straight from the doctor's mouth. Same guy I've been to for years."

Rose's resolve to conceal her identity crumbled a little. This made everything different. She couldn't keep up the pretence of being a stranger any longer.

"Dimitri."

"Hmmm?"

She took a deep breath. How would he accept her when she told him? "I really don't want to do this." She hesitated for a moment. "I thought I could just keep quiet and get on with being your temporary P.A. and it wouldn't matter. It's only a short term job..."

A strange and absolute stillness overtook him. "Spit it out, whatever it is. It can't be any worse than what I've just told you."

"No, not worse, but another surprise I'm afraid. I'm Rose. Roza from the orchard all those years ago."

There was silence for a few seconds while he processed that. She continued to rub at his shoulder, but he suddenly thrust her backward so he could look at her.

"Why the hell didn't you say?" Now his eyes burned with all manner of fierce accusations.

"Thirteen years, Comrade—people change. I had no idea it was you yesterday. You used to be an angry boy who looked like a frog, with a mop of hair hiding half your face.

He grimaced at her less than flattering description, and she rushed on to try and smooth things between them. "Now you're a tall successful man and you've turned into the damn prince. Everything about you is totally different."

His expression softened a little, and he gave a self-deprecating shrug before asking, "So how did you know it was me?"

Rose reached for his hand and ran her thumb over the white scar line on his forefinger.

"I saw this and remembered making you jump and cut yourself. I'm sorry it's left such a mark."

Dimitri puffed out an amused breath. "Not you. I did it again about a year ago, gutting a fish, and it got infected. They had the devil of a job to get it right. The original scar had long gone."

Now it was her turn to shrug. "So I might never have recognized you. I only knew you as Dimitri. I wasn't positive about the Belikov."

"Thirteen years," he said, gazing down at her, wonder in his voice. "Where are your long brown pigtails, Roza? Where's my serious little shadow gone? You grew up in a big way." He loosened his hand from hers and trailed his fingers across the tops of her breasts, keeping his caress just decent, but setting fire racing through her veins. "These grew up in a big way too. Don't think I haven't noticed."

She tried to struggle away from him. "No!" she exclaimed, squirming with unease. "Don't go there Dimitri—we were only kids."

"You were. I knew better. I never would have hurt you, but I couldn't leave you alone."

"You came here to talk," she said, sounding half strangled.

_Why didn't I slap his hand away the instant he touched me?_

Dimitri shot her a long considering glance. "And maybe I've hit the jackpot in an odd way. What did you know about my family, Roza? Why did I end up at the orchard every school holiday?"

She looked up warily. This was Comrade. Lovely Comrade, who'd been part of her life so long ago, and part of her deep dark fantasies ever since. Against all the odds, here they were together again, and he was hurting, and maybe she could help.

"I didn't know much about your family at all." She flicked her eyes away from his intense scrutiny.

You were just a boy who stayed at the orchard sometimes when I was little. I had no idea why. I spent quite a lot of time with my grandparents because my Mom worked and couldn't take all the school holidays off, so I suppose I assumed much the same about you."

He gave a bitter laugh at that. "Not likely. My mother never worked at anything for long, and my father..." He stopped on a scowl.

"What?"

"My so-called father wasn't known for working with any enthusiasm either. He was a thief and a con man and sometimes in jail."

Rose gave up resisting Dimitri's embrace and relaxed against his chest again. She drew a cautious breath. The fresh salty scent of his skin floated down her throat to expand her lungs with happiness.

"God, it feels good to be able to say that out loud without feeling guilty," he added. "I've been ashamed of being his son ever since I knew he was such a loser. My brothers aren't much better."

Rose heard anguish in his bitter words and searched for a comforting reply. "You're nothing like them, so you no doubt have good ancestors behind you."

"I want to _know_," he ground out. "I've had my whole life stolen away from me—which probably sounds stupidly melodramatic to you, but it's the way I feel."

She burrowed even closer, finding her own comfort in his warmth. "Comrade, I understand more than you expect. A while after you left, my parents sailed to Fiji. I was fifteen. They never arrived. I had quite a chunk of my life stolen too."

His arms tensed around her as her revelation sank in. "And what happened after that?"

She gazed up into his dark, dark eyes, trapped and sinking. She'd unconsciously yearned to be close since the moment she'd seen him on Monday morning, half dressed and sensational. She'd tried not to look at him for most of the last two long confusing days. Now she saw every strand of his glossy hair, every dark eyelash, the faint gleam of teeth between warm, inviting lips. The thread of their conversation deserted her.

"Fifteen?" he prompted. "Too young to look after yourself. What happened next?"

"I lived at the orchard," she muttered, finally pulling free from him and reaching for her wine. She took a deep gulp before continuing.

"When I was twenty, I went flatting with a couple of girls at work, but within a few weeks Grandpa got ill and I had to go back home. We sold the orchard, and he moved into town." She worried at her bottom lip, hoping not to sound like the buttoned-up unadventurous girl he'd assume from that sad description. "And he needed a caregiver so I stayed with him again. Not very interesting. What happened to you?"

He shot her a very level look. "I suspect you're glossing over things there, little Roza. So you were orphaned a couple of years after I left? You had nice parents—I remember them being nicer than mine."

Rose nodded, her 'last time' picture of them vivid in her memory. "Janine and Abe. They did everything together. Even built their boat together."

Dimitri huffed out a bitter laugh. "You couldn't say the same about Greg and Olena. They spent a lot of time apart because he was so often in jail. That's why we left town. He was convicted for growing hash in a big way. Olena brought us to Wellington because she has a sister here."

"So that's why you disappeared? I often wondered."

They sat on in silence for a few minutes. Dimitri finished his wine and set his glass down. "If you can think of anything, I'd be grateful. I went to the Child, Youth, and Family office this morning but they were no help. You can't see a caseworker without an appointment. You can't _get_ a caseworker without filling in forms. And that didn't seem to be the way to go, anyway."

"You could Google 'adoption'?"

"Which takes you through to Births, Deaths, and Marriages." He closed his eyes for a moment and then began to quote. "'Once you turn twenty you can write to the Registrar General to get a copy of your original birth certificate. It may show details of one or more of your birth parents.'"

"So have you?" She remembered the furious pounding on his computer mid-morning and wondered if that was what he'd been doing.

"Yes, of course. But I've a perfectly normal looking birth certificate already showing Greg and Olena Belikov as my birth parents. I'm not expecting there'll be anything else on file."

"Wait and see."

He dipped his head in a slight nod. "Pigs may fly." He slapped a hand against his forehead in exasperation. "I can't believe I didn't query things years ago. Both my so-called brothers are losing their hair early like Greg."

"And you're certainly not losing yours."

"They're both classic slow gainers. Scrawny as."

"But you're—" _Perfect, just perfect_, she told herself.

"I'm what?"

"Umm...stronger?" She'd soon be blushing. "You have nice muscles."

"Need them in my business." He sent her half a smile as thanks for her compliment.

"And there's the Salvation Army," she suggested, trying not to drown in his slow easy grin. "I think they do a lot of people tracing."

"But again, I'd need a name to start with."

"Surely your parents can tell you something?"

Dimitri's expression changed as swiftly as if someone had slammed down a shutter. Jaw clenched, eyes dead.

"Haven't asked. Can't face them for a while yet. I'll smash Greg's bloody head in, the way I'm currently feeling. Lucky for him they're away for a couple of days." He sent her a glance that challenged her to disagree. "I'm not doing it on the phone. I want to look into the bastard's eyes when I ask him."

Rose rested a hand on his knee for a second before pushing herself upright. "Another wine before you go? I'm throwing you out in a few minutes. I need to get myself properly unpacked and organized."

Dimitri grabbed her hand before she slipped free.

"Thanks for listening. Just a coffee maybe? So I don't drink myself into a maudlin haze and end up sleeping here on your sofa?"

Rose's heart gave a lurch of anticipation. Her brain followed up with a bucket of cold water.

"Not a chance, Dimitri. I'd push you out long before that."

_Or drag you into my bed._

"It'll have to be instant coffee I think," she somehow managed. "I haven't been here long enough to check all the cupboards, but I don't see a coffee maker."

He shrugged, beautiful shoulders lifting and falling again, making the white T-shirt reshape itself so she imagined snowy marble sculpture coming alive. "Fine. Keep the rest of the wine for another day."

"Take it with you."

He shook his head and sent her another of his slow incendiary smiles. "I might come back for a glass tomorrow night."

"I might be out."

"You got a boyfriend, Roza?"

God—what was she supposed to say to that? 'Yes' might mean he never came back. 'No' would make her sound far too eager and available.

"Not here in Wellington."

"Back home?"

She shook her head. "Broke it off." Well, it was only a small lie. "I'm going overseas, Dimitri. My relationship wasn't going anywhere, but I am." She turned and headed for the kitchen, busying herself finding mugs and teaspoons and a jar of coffee granules, head down, eyes well away from the glittering darkness of his.

* * *

**Thanks again for the continued support, this is really fun to write :D**

**7Becky7**


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all: Thanks to everyone who has supported me.  
Second of all: Could we hit more reviews this chapter? Last chapter I got way less than usual!**

**It's time for me to update so here we go.**

**This chapter is just over 2, 600 words, so it's a medium one. Don't worry, more action is coming up!**

***Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Academy, Richelle Mead does!***

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**Chapter**** 6**

Next day it poured, and a blustery northerly sent leaves tumbling everywhere and sheets of water sluicing sideways in the cooler air.

Rose fed Zorro in the murky early morning light and stood for a few moments on the small balcony, sheltered from the worst of the weather. She'd bought a couple of energy bars with her, but Kelly's pantry had plenty of cereal, and there was half a loaf of bread so breakfast was easy.

She intended taking her car to get around the possible 'wine-with-Dimitri-after-work' thing, but when she went to the secure basement parking garage, she found several boxes of personal possessions still on the back seat. Boxes she'd intended carrying up the night before until she'd been waylaid by her unexpected visitor. With no time to do that now, and not wanting the car sitting outside with tempting looking boxes visible to attract thieves, she decided to walk. The apartment was only a few blocks from BodyWork, and the shop verandas would mostly protect her from the rain.

But that left the possibility of Dimitri insisting he drove her home to share the rest of the wine after work tonight. The prospect had teased her from the moment he'd left.

She wanted no romantic entanglements. Needed to be free to travel. It had been her parents' dream, and they'd infected her with their wanderlust. Even though they'd left her behind every time they went away, she'd shared their anticipation as they planned, and marveled at the things they brought back. The colorful souvenirs. Unusual gifts. Photos of strange and exotic places.

Grandma and Grandpa hadn't been travelers. The orchard and Grandma's indifferent health had kept them close to home, and although Rose had enjoyed several short holidays with friends, she'd been caught up again caring for Grandpa after his stroke.

But finally, finally, her turn had arrived to experience it all, and no hot and hunky flirt would be stealing her dream.

Especially as he'd burst back into her life at exactly the wrong time.

She hugged the smallest box against her and headed back up to the apartment. Because of the weather, and her own wariness towards Dimitri, she'd gone with jeans and boots today. And her favorite zipper-fronted red top with the bands of scattered beads and sequins around the demure neckline and wrists. She'd pulled the zipper right up so there was no skin to tempt him. Not a glimpse of a breast. Not a hint of ankle or midriff or arm. She had to stay strong somehow. She grabbed her leather jacket as protection from the rain, picked up her bag, and set off at a brisk pace. In future she'd be starting at 8.30 and working through until five.

* * *

Dimitri's head jerked up as Rose walked past his open doorway. He caught the faint drift of the fragrance she wore. Dimitri rose from his chair and followed her to the staff room on silent feet, watching as she slid out of her sexy little black bomber jacket and hung it in her locker.

"Back in your jeans today?"

She flinched, then turned and stared him down with her dark eyes. "It's turning colder."

"No worse than yesterday."

"So?"

"I liked yesterday's skirt."

"I'll wear it again sometime then."

She was different—not just her clothes, but her attitude. Definitely cooler after last night's friendly concern.

"Coffee?" she asked before he had time to comment further.

"Thanks."

She turned away and ignored him while she fussed with the machine. Which put her pert little butt in the snug jeans right where he could best admire it. What the hell was it about her that got to him? She had no designer clothes or classy hairdo, wasn't huge in the breast department. Not his usual taste in women at all. Yet he was drawn to her as strongly now as he had been at the orchard all those years ago.

_More. Much more. She was far too young then, and I had no business fooling around with her. Even though I was just a curious kid myself._

He stood there, itching to mold his fingers around her peachy curves, yearning to drop kisses on her tender exposed nape. Damn near exploding with sudden lust.

As he swung around to return to his office she asked, "When are your parents back?"

"My non-parents. Greg and Olena. Tomorrow I think. Unless Greg's changed his mind—or got arrested again."

"You need to talk to them, Dimitri."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"I mean it. It's no good trying to do anything else until you hear it straight from them. They might have an instant answer for you."

He folded his arms across his chest and looked daggers at her. In his heart of hearts he knew she was right, and doing nothing, getting nowhere, killed him. He'd be damned if he'd simply phone and ask them though. His so-called father could lie his way out of anything—often had—and Dimitri wanted the element of surprise to maximize his chances of a straight answer.

Rose putting on this cool, concerned façade—the caring-but-don't-get-close act— killed him. They'd had a real connection the previous evening. He'd loved having her wrapped around him trying to hug his hurt away. He'd like some more hugging instead of her careful distance.

He snarled to himself as he turned for his office again. Women—how could you trust them? His own mother had given him away. Olena had palmed him off on someone else every school holiday but kept her biological sons close. Roza had switched on the affection last night but had now switched it off again.

_Stick to the one-nighters, the one-weekers. Show them a good time and keep sending them on their way._

A few minutes later Rose breezed in with his coffee, made a great show of searching for a vacant place on his desk to set it down rather than looking at him, and turned to leave.

"Rose?"

Her candid dark eyes finally lifted to lock with his.

"Later this afternoon, if this weather clears, I want to take you up the coast a few miles and show you something."

Her feathery brows rose, and she straightened so her breasts pressed against the soft red fabric of her top. Dimitri's palms itched and his groin stirred.

_Why her? Why the hell do I want her so much?_

"A property," he grated. "You need to see it because you'll be in charge of queries and messages while I'm not here."

"Your property? Okay."

"I'm having some work done, and the builder needs a local contact."

A small crease appeared between her brows, and she moved so her weight rested equally on both parted feet. His gaze zeroed to the gap between her thighs.

"Nothing to worry about," he hastened to add, dragging his attention back up to her face. "It won't be anything too tough, but you'll know how to contact me if I'm really needed. I'd rather not be interrupted by the builder during the Auckland meetings."

She looked past him to the window, and his eyes roamed over her again. Long legs in blue denim, red top draping gracefully from neck to hips, hinting at the soft warmth of her breasts, the curve of her waist. Long dark hair with small dark blonde streaks tousled as though his fingers had already ruffled through it. The face of a naughty angel.

And damn if his cock wasn't reacting to her yet again. He pulled his chair closer to the desk so she had no chance of seeing the effect she had on him.

"It's still pouring," she murmured as the rain spattered on the windows.

"Yeah, well, we'll see how it looks later. Thanks for the coffee."

Rose hastened back to the reception area and the ever-ringing phone. That hadn't gone too badly. She'd worried Dimitri might have taken last night's embrace as an invitation to rekindle their old friendship, but he seemed fine and cool. Which was more than she could say for herself.

Every time she looked at him, she wanted to do more than just look. Wanted to touch and stroke and lick and taste and luxuriate in him. Wanted to press herself up against his tall beautiful body and do things she'd never contemplated with past boyfriends. Her old teenage temptations hadn't been buried too deeply at all.

Damn, damn, damn! He was taking over her mind—floating by at the most inappropriate moments. She needed to stay focused on her job and her future travel plans.

At least the property queries might make a distraction. She kept an eye on the weather, hoping the rain would stop.

Jill arrived—late but determined—and by noon, Rose knew she had a good handle on most of her BodyWork duties.

Yet another email dinged through.

**'Rose'**.

Did he get a kick out of summoning her like that? She saved her work and hurried through to his office.

"Yes?"

Dimitri scooped up his car keys and held them toward her. "Take Jill home and tell her to stay there. She's done enough. She shouldn't still be working."

"She's three days overdue now and says she's beginning to feel 'interesting'."

He pulled his beautiful mouth into a rueful grimace. "Get her out of the place, for God's sake. She'll have the kid on the floor if we're not careful." He jingled the keys at her.

"You drive her. Your car's murder to control."

"Sorry — waiting on a call from Sydney."

Rose sighed, reached out, and found he'd wedged them over the knuckle of his thumb. She held out her hand imperiously.

Dimitri grinned. "You'll have to wrestle them off me again."

She huffed out a sharp breath and grabbed, secretly pleased to have the excuse to touch. He jerked the keys out of reach, rolled his chair backward, and swiveled to face her. He jingled them again and she pounced—and found herself neatly tipped onto his lap and cradled against his chest. She reacted like an enraged cat facing up to a much bigger dog. Pure instinct made her raise a hand to slap at him, but he caught it and held it against his neck.

"Let me go, damn you." She struggled, knowing she had little chance of escaping from his confining embrace. Her fingers tensed against hot skin, and she attempted to scrape her nails down, but his grip on her hand remained firm. His pulse beat under her palm, and his amused smile dipped dangerously close.

"Let you go?" he teased. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm _working_." She gave another fierce wriggle.

"Nah — you're on your lunch-break now. The boss says you can fool around all you like."

"Well I don't like." She attempted again to get free, but stopped in alarm when she felt what she was sitting on.

His strong arms wrapped tighter around her, and he laughed at her no doubt horrified expression.

"Stop that!" she insisted, as a sudden rush of heat and moisture arrived right where she pressed against his rampant cock.

"You really think I can reverse things with your pretty little butt keeping him such good company?"

"Try." She sent him her sternest glare.

"Not a hope. One kiss?"

Her willful body gave another electric surge. "No."

"One little kiss. I should have kissed you last night."

"No you shouldn't." His scent washed across to her, so fresh and clean and sexy. The keys pressed against her thigh, jingling and clinking together where his big hand held her prisoner. "You shouldn't. We mustn't."

"We're all grown up now, Roza. We can do anything we want."

She squirmed on his lap, still trying to break free, and then stopped again as his grin broadened.

"No, Dimitri."

"No, you're not grown up? Or no, you don't want?"

She looked up into his laughing eyes. "I don't want." She pressed her lips into what she hoped was a convincing line of disapproval.

"Liar," he whispered. "Pretty little liar. Your big eyes, and these—"

Rose gasped as he touched a tight nipple.

"—are telling me an altogether different story."

The dampness surged in her groin yet again.

_Please God he can't tell what's happening down there..._

"Well, okay," she allowed. "I might be a bit turned on because I can feel you are, but I don't want to start anything."

"Not thinking of starting anything." He rotated his thumb on her nipple. "Just playing. You were always fun to play with."

Rose's breath caught again as he bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. Once. Softly.

He tasted deliciously of coffee. Her heart thudded.

"I never kissed you in the implement shed," he whispered, pulling back a tiny distance. "I can't imagine how I held off. I was hard as hell all that last summer. You were so cute and solemn and innocent."

He dropped another light kiss onto the tip of her nose and drew back again. "Now you're just cute, and I'd really like to play some more."

So would she! She let out a long slow sigh of frustration. "No," she insisted, angling her head enough to look into his eyes, and hoping she sounded convincing.

"Why not? One good reason?"

"Because that's all it is—playing. It might be enough for you, but it's not enough for me, and the timing's way wrong." She saw his gorgeous lips parting to voice some objection, and rushed on before he interrupted. "Right now, Dimitri, I don't want anyone, serious or otherwise. I want to finish this assignment and get away. I've been held up for years, and I'm not delaying my traveling any longer. Not for you or for anyone else."

He nodded slowly as though he accepted her reasoning, and her thudding heartbeat eased off a little.

Then a further challenge flared deep in his dark eyes. "I still say you're a liar though. I know when a woman's turned on."

"I admitted I was! A bit. What I'm sitting on feels like one hundred percent temptation if that makes you feel any better, but..."

"But you're not going to do anything about it?"

"Right. Good. You finally understand." She made to wriggle off his lap and still he didn't relax his grip on her.

"One hundred percent temptation, huh? Room for any negotiation there, Roza?"

* * *

**I've got a plan for my next all human story, it's going to be called, 'Edge of Disaster'. Basically the story line is that Rose is at the edge of disaster because she's drinking and all that stuff, then she meets Dimitri and tries to turn a new leaf to be with him. What do you think?**

**Please leave a REVIEW!**

**7Becky7**


	7. Chapter 7

**There's a section around the middle that is clearly marked out. Those are conflicted thoughts just in case you guys don't understand.  
This is a reasonably long chapter, so enjoy!**

**Thank you to all my excellent reviewers!**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

As Rose drove Jill home, the clouds parted and fitful sunshine beamed through. Maybe Dimitri would take her out to his house after all? With the traffic lighter in the suburbs, she let the Ferrari have its head a little more. Its throaty growl reverberated deep in her gut and she couldn't suppress a smile. No doubt it gave him a visceral thrill, too. Put a grin on his gorgeous face. Made the blood pump faster around his incredible body.

She stalled the capricious car yet again as she stopped at an intersection.

_Damn, I'm thinking of him instead of concentrating._

"Why would he want a car that's so hard to drive?" she demanded.

Jill grinned. "Because he's a man. Cam would give his eyeteeth for it. I think it's quite old, and I know they made hardly any as four-seaters."

"So it's a rare classic? It's ridiculous he lets anyone else drive it."

"Aren't you lucky, then?"

Rose pulled a face and dragged her brain back to where she needed it.

"Left at the next corner."

She followed the rest of Jill's street instructions and glided to a halt in the driveway of a white-painted 1920's timber bungalow. "Nice! How long have you lived here?"

"We bought it as soon as I got pregnant. There's a lot more we'd like to refurb inside, including the kitchen, but it's coming on okay."

Rose pushed the driver's door open, raced around to the passenger side, and offered her arm for support. "Thanks for all your help, Jill. I can always phone if I have more queries."

"See that you do."

"Yes, Mom. I'll just see you safely inside."

"Phfffft!" Jill teased. "You think I need helping like I'm an old lady?"

"I think you need helping like you're a rather fat one. If you fall over, I'll never be able to pick you up."

Jill rolled her eyes at that, and grasped Rose's hand to heave herself from the low seat. "Yeah, the fat lady's had enough of this. Roll on baby-day."

Rose glanced up at the sky and asked, "What do you know about Dimitri's house? The beach house? He said if the weather cleared he'd take me there so I can liaise with the builder."

Jill's attention sharpened. "Lucky you. It's quite an old place, built around 1900 I think. I saw the deeds but I haven't seen the house."

"What's he having done?"

"A heap of stuff. Practically turning it back to front. He said the living rooms didn't face the sea."

"Well, they used to build the oldies facing the street."

"I get the feeling there's not a street as such." Jill dug out her keys, unlocked the door, and sent Rose a rueful smile. "Look after my nice boss for me."

"He doesn't need much looking after, although half the women in town are probably keen to try."

"He's a short term guy—never gets serious."

Small tremors that felt horribly like jealousy squeezed at Rose's heart, even though she'd vowed to keep clear of him. "Why am I not surprised?" she asked, trying for a tone of casual disinterest.

"He's too busy for serious." Jill turned aside into a sunny family room and dropped her purse onto a small oak table. "He's empire building. I never saw a guy so driven—not that I'm warning you off." She lowered herself onto a chair and sighed with relief.

"Not that I need the warning," Rose countered, trying to rid herself of the feeling of something good passing her by. "Can I get you anything before I go? Tea? Coffee? Juice?"

"Nope, I'm fine thanks. I'll visit the bathroom yet again,"—she gave another theatrical roll of her big eyes—"and then me and bubs will have a lie-down for a while. Enjoy your trip to the beach."

"Without my bucket and spade, sadly. Look after yourself, or even better get Cam to." She bent and gave Jill a quick hug, waggled her fingers in a farewell wave, and pulled the front door closed behind her.

She hated to admit it, but Dimitri attracted her fiercely, had fascinated her as a child, and had fueled an intense crush when she was a teenager. He'd left a huge hole in her life by disappearing. With no goodbye, and no intimation she was anything but a silly little girl to play games with.

He'd lurked in her memory banks as someone darkly desirable and purely masculine ever since—spoiling any other boy's chance of making much of an impression, and raising her expectations of sexual attraction to unattainable heights.

The growling car vibrated under her, almost as potently suggestive as Dimitri himself. Perhaps she should take its owner for a test-drive too? Abandon all her good intentions and enjoy him for the short unexpected time she'd been given? She drove back to BodyWork telling herself to be sensible—and countering every objection she produced. He was a player, and he'd said he wanted to play. Why shouldn't she play along with him for the next couple of weeks?

* * *

_Because I'm not that kind of girl._

**But you could be?**

_Maybe I'm not brave enough to try._

**You'll never know unless you do.**

_I'll probably disappoint him._

**He's only after sex—you can manage that.**

_But working for him as well?_

**It's a temporary job. You can leave if you want to.**

_I might fall for him even harder, and then I'll never get him out of my heart._

**There was no guarantee with that last one.**

* * *

By the time she arrived back at the fitness center, the sky was ninety percent blue. She ran up the stairs full of energy, pulse racing in time with the pounding music, hoping the trip to the beach house happened. More time in Dimitri's company would test her resolve, and if she lost the battle, she'd have to suffer the inevitable heartbreak and wait it through until it ebbed away to a bearable level. Then she'd take her mind off him by traveling to wonderful places and meeting interesting new people.

She was no stranger to escapism. Hadn't she had to escape from her parents' death, and her grandmother's? And then find distractions all through the long years caring for her grandfather? A quickie affair with one good-looking guy should be a cinch. Especially if she didn't let it get serious.

She stowed her jacket and bag in her locker. Should she knock on Dimitri's closed door? Maybe not—perhaps he had an important visitor or was on the international call he'd mentioned. Smiling, she returned to reception, opened the email program, and keyed in **'Mother-to-be safely delivered. Also car.'**

He replied almost instantly,** 'bring 2 coffees.'**

She wrinkled her nose. He was back to his high-handed self.

**'You and who?'** she typed.

**'You and me.'**

So no important visitor or overseas call. She returned to the staff-room and glared at her reflection in the mirror by the lockers while the coffeemaker did its thing. And couldn't resist smudging on another drift of eye-shadow, spritzing a tiny spray of perfume into the air and leaning into it, and pulling the zipper of her red top down a few inches so a little skin showed.

_Just because the weather's warmer now._

She turned back to the machine. Seconds later the hairs lifting on her scalp told her Dimitri had arrived. She was now so tuned in to him that his almost silent tread on the carpet and the slight movement of the air in the room were enough. The warm weight of his hands settled on her hips as she stood facing the machine. "Don't make me spill this," she warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

One hand stroked upward, firm and sure over her spine and shoulder. Every inch of her he caressed came alight with pinpoints of pleasure, and she pressed backward like a cat seeking comfort. He squeezed her nape, a small but possessive gesture, and she turned. He stood far too close, hand now sliding to cradle the side of her face. His thumb grazed over her lower lip, backward, forward, in a languid slide. Rose closed her eyes.

"Don't," she whispered.

He dropped a kiss on her brow and released her. "Come and see my house, then. The weather's behaving."

"As long as you do too..."

"No guarantees there."

She pushed a coffee toward him, and he grinned as he took it from her. "You trying to keep my hands occupied, Rose?"

"Something like that," she muttered, picking up the other mug and trailing him back to his office.

Big architectural drawings now covered the low table. Dimitri squatted in front of them and set his coffee down. Rose stayed a step behind, checking out the way his jeans cupped his butt and the white T-shirt stretched over the long muscles of his back.

Sure, he had all the gear and the know-how to sculpt himself to perfection, but that perfection was a knockout. If she hadn't been holding her coffee, her hands might have gone wandering in return.

He pulled a yellowed and battered sheet of paper from beneath the others, and she drew closer.

"Original frontage," he said, pointing to the carefully detailed veranda with its turned timber posts and railings. "She still has that same door, but the paint's long gone." He stroked a finger over the intricate panels. "I've bought a wreck, Roza, but a wreck with real potential. Until a couple of years ago the farmer who owned it used the ground floor for storing hay bales and stock feed."

She exclaimed in distress and bent lower to examine the drawings. The house was a two-storied double-bay villa, once very grand. The floors were traditionally laid out with a central passageway and staircase. The architect's signature and the date 1904 were appended in ornate copperplate script.

"Hay bales? What a travesty."

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "You won't think that when you see it." He shuffled a collection of much newer plans on top of the old drawing. "We'll take these with us and you can compare them with what currently exists. Then if there are any queries you'll be up to speed."

"You're putting a lot of trust in me," she said doubtfully.

"Nah, you'll cope. You've got a good brain. I just need you to use your common sense and deflect some of the rubbish calls away from me."

He bounced up from his squat, and her eyes measured the length and strength of his legs. What would they feel like pressed naked against her own? Her throat constricted.

"Drink up and we'll beat the rush-hour traffic onto the main coast road."

She sipped. "So what are you having done?"

"Huge refurb. All the original house needs a lot of TLC. But I'm building on at the back, which is where the views are. That area's wasted on utility rooms and bedrooms." He sent her a hint of a grin. "Who needs a view from a bedroom? You're either sleeping or too busy enjoying yourself to stare out the windows."

Rose coughed on her gulp of coffee, picturing Dimitri's long sun-striped back rising and falling against white sheets as he made love to some fortunate woman. Her eyes met his wicked dark gaze, and the sparkle of sexy suggestion there. He was deliberately winding her up. "Nothing wrong with busy," she said, looking away.

"Happy to get busy with you any time, Rose." He left a couple of seconds' silence, then apparently thought better of teasing her further. He pointed to a large squared-off extension on the plans. "I want the living areas there."

She cleared her throat, sipped again, and nodded. "Makes sense."

"You can see right down to the South Island and across to Kapiti Island. Or you will once we've taken some tangled old trees out of the way."

She tried to drag her brain onto tree trimming, but that enticing picture of him emerging from the sheets wouldn't desert her. The slow rhythmic pumping, the way his shoulders bunched and relaxed, the searing sexuality of a beautiful man in his prime doing what he'd been put on earth for.

Her internal muscles trembled and twitched as though he was sliding inside her, weighing her down on that tumbled white bed, making her arch up against him with every long languid thrust.

She set her half-full mug down on his desk beside a roofing tile catalogue, not daring to look at him. Too real. Too vividly explicit.

She was grateful when his mobile intruded. He reached across to the desk for it and glanced at the caller ID.

"Evan—good timing. How's it going there?"

Rose relaxed enough to pick up her mug again, only half listening to his conversation. Should she leave? But her attention spiked when he said, "Just on our way out now. Will you be there for another half hour? I want you to meet my new P.A., Rose."

He sent her an amused glance, black eyes wandering over her red top. "No, she's a girl. Can personally guarantee that."

She tried not to react. To keep her expression neutral, her smile hidden.

"Yup—a brain as well as a body."

Her heartbeat stuttered for a moment. He thought that about her?

"Stop it!" she mouthed at him, but he simply relaxed back into his chair, hooked one foot up onto his other knee, and let his slow grin spread until it was the broadest of smiles. She easily saw why women found him irresistible, but Jill's words about him never getting serious clanged a warning in her brain.

She'd known it from the start. He was a player, not a serious prospect. That was fine—she didn't have serious time to spare for him. But a short term affair? A few days of flirtation and no-doubt incredible sex, and then a regretful goodbye before she flew off on her long-delayed travels? That enticing cocky grin positively begged to be kissed.

"Yup," he said to the builder, eyes still on her. "We can do that." He fingered the tile catalogue. "I'll bring it with me."

He reached for a grey document tube, pushed it across to her, and indicated she was to roll up the plans. She swallowed hard and drained her coffee mug.

"This one too?" She held up the original old drawing.

He nodded. "Okay matey, see you in thirty." He pocketed the phone. "Yes, that one especially."

"You should make a copy and keep the original safe. Frame it and hang it in the house when it's finished."

He shot her a considering look and then nodded again. "As I said—a brain as well as a body. Can you copy it for me before we leave?"

She smiled inwardly at his repeated compliment, left the new plans on the table, and carried the old one out to reception. It took two passes to get the whole image. She made two copies and then trimmed the overlaps, taped the halves together, and returned to Dimitri's office.

"Where can you store this?" She handed him the old version. "Somewhere flat until you take it to the picture framer's. Or I will, if you like?"

His dark eyes caressed her as she turned aside, set one copy on top of the new plans, rolled them up, and inserted them in the document tube. Two days ago the sensation had unnerved her. Now it felt like foreplay.

"Leave it there for now." His voice sounded a shade huskier than earlier.

Rose's bones buzzed as she registered the sexy timbre.

"No-one comes in except the cleaners," he continued. "And they don't touch what's on my desk. Ready?"

Readier than you know...

"I'll grab my bag and jacket," she said, glancing at her watch and trying to appear cool. "Are we done for the day?"

Dimitri grimaced. "You are. I'm not."

"Pity the poor old boss..."

"Not so poor any more, and not so old, thanks."

She laughed as he crossed the office and pulled the door further open. He stood just far enough back to let her pass, but she had to squeeze by quite close. She almost bumped hips with him, and her red top brushed against his snowy T-shirt, dragging gently as it caught on the soft knit fabric. A frisson of anticipation shimmered through her. God, he smelled good.

"Who's on duty?" She turned aside to put some distance between them.

"I've let Heidi and a couple of the others know we'll be out together."

_And what are they going to make of that?_

"See you downstairs," he called as Rose headed for her locker.

* * *

**Hehe, I've already started on my other book, 'Edge of Disaster' (separate). I don't plan on a series anytime soon :P  
I will release the first chapter around, the second last, or last chapter of this story. Please enjoy!**

**Because 7 is my lucky number I have a deal for you guys: If I receive 10+ reviews for this chapter then I will release the next chapter on the next day.  
**

**7Becky7**


	8. Chapter 8

**I got 10 reviews rather quick, under 12 hours! So here's the next chapter, even though it's not the next day yet! And this chapter is longer.**

**Tribute to:  
unnz4 - For reviewing and being a great friend to talk to and being an Aussie!  
Adhoore Khwab - For giving some personal advice and continually reviewing!  
blackrose1999 - For continually reviewing and making me laugh!**

***Disclaimer: I do NOT own Vampire Academy! Richelle Mead does!***

* * *

**Chapter 8**

This time Dimitri waited beside the sleek black car, door open, ready to play the attentive escort. The independent woman in Rose wanted to scoff, but somewhere in the primitive sensual side of her brain, it felt nice being treated with such courtesy. Grandpa had always done that. For a moment, she ached with the recent loss of him, then pulled herself back to the present. This was no Sunday drive with Grandpa.

Dimitri touched her arm as she sat, and the warmth of his fingers burned through the red fabric of her sleeve. "Want me to stow those for you?"

She handed him her bag and the document tube, and he leaned in close and tossed them onto the back seat. His scent drifted across the small gap between them, and she angled her head slightly so the smooth curve of his bicep stroked past her cheek when he pulled his arm back.

He looked down sharply, as if to check he hadn't hurt her, and Rose met his eyes and said, "Oops."

"You looking for trouble, Roza?" he asked before closing her door with a thud.

Was she? She leaned back into the seat, not really knowing _what_ she was looking for, but enjoying her low-angle view as he strode around the front of the car. His chest and shoulders caught the sun, beautifully defined. The muscle cut under his stretchy white T-shirt looked magnificent, and she gave a small sigh of appreciation before he opened his door.

Trouble? Yes, he'd be trouble. No doubt about it. Hot dangerous trouble that might singe her very soul.

He sat, and looked across at her—face serious, eyes full of chocolate shadows. Suddenly he looked a lot more like the Comrade of old. The boy with the smoldering 'I want' expression who had so thrilled and discomforted her when she'd been younger.

She shrugged. "I won't be here long enough for much trouble." She bit her lip and cursed her runaway tongue.

He sent her an unreadable grunt and a slight lift of one dark eyebrow.

"We'll see." Which left her on edge and wondering. "Ready to rock'n'roll?" He revved the engine and the car howled with glee and vibrated with barely leashed energy.

To her surprise, he drove circumspectly, pulling into the late afternoon traffic with ease and navigating Wellington's sometimes narrow streets like a model citizen. So much for expecting a macho demonstration of power and aggression.

But the moment he hit the expressway he floored the accelerator and the Ferrari snarled and sprang away from the surrounding vehicles, arrowing ahead like a bullet. The throaty roar of the engine and the huge surge of speed drew an unwitting gasp from her, and Dimitri laughed with all-too-evident enjoyment.

"Thought you might like to see what she can do. I bet you didn't get a chance when you took Jill home?"

"As if!" Her heart thudded double-time as the rush of adrenaline hit.

He eased off the accelerator and the car drifted back to something approaching the speed limit. "So this trouble you're not staying around for?"

_Uh-oh. He's not going to let that slide?_

"Sorry. Silly comment."

"Out of your deep dark subconscious, Roza. Where the things you really want lurk, just waiting to surface."

She glanced across at him, disconcerted, and saw one corner of his mouth kick up into that wicked grin again. His gaze held hers briefly before he turned his attention back to the road.

"You want me Roza, you can have me. I'd have broken the law to have you at the orchard. In fact maybe I did break the law. Skated close anyway. Would that have been classed as 'unlawful carnal knowledge' if we'd been found out?"

"No!" she choked. "No way, Dimitri. No-one could have accused us of that."

"Accused me." He shook his head slowly, gazing far ahead at the traffic. "You had me under some kind of spell."

_So it was mutual? Or was he just a horny teenager ready to experiment with anyone female and willing?_

"Did I run away from you?" she demanded. "Object to what you did? What we did?" She swallowed, uncomfortable talking about it, but pleased to get it out in the open all the same. "I was fascinated, Dimitri. Enthralled. Only just waking up to the possibilities of sex. Hearing the talk from people, but with no way of knowing what was true."

"And no way of asking your grandparents."

That surprised a puff of mirth out of her. "Ha! Exactly. The orchard was hardly a hotbed of depravity."

"Oh, I don't know..."

She shot him a suspicious glare. His lips pressed together as though concealing secrets. "What? _What?_"

"Some of the pickers got their rocks off sometimes. Down by the river."

"You _watched_?"

"I was sixteen, honey. Desperate to refine my technique."

"You had an actual _technique_?"

Dimitri tapped the side of his nose. "A gentleman never tells." And as fast as that, his teasing manner evaporated. "I need to bring you up to speed with the builder. Evan. Don't trust him. I'm going to make it clear you're mine, and that should hold him off."

"But I'm not, and I can look after myself, thank you."

Dimitri accelerated to warp speed and barreled ahead of other traffic. Then he slowed and pulled into line again. He looked across at her, daring her to disapprove.

"But if I sling an arm around you, you won't have to look after yourself. He's on his third wife, and according to my sister-in-law this current marriage is in trouble, too. Good builder, bad bastard with women."

Rose settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Beside her Dimitri stayed silent as though he'd settled the matter. The tires sang on the road, the engine crackled and hummed, and her concentration drifted. Soon, he clasped her hand and said, "Nearly there."

She peered out the window at rolling countryside. "I thought this house was at the beach?"

He checked his rear view mirrors and signaled a turn. "Wait and see." He left the main road with a squeal of tires and then immediately braked.

Rose bounced against her seat belt as they hit the rough gravel surface of a farm road.

"Sorry, should have given you more warning." Not that he looked the least bit sorry. He navigated the rutted surface with care, and then slowed to a stop as the ocean appeared far below.

"But...how...?" She gazed down at the suddenly disclosed view, then back to Dimitri. A flock of sheep lollopped away in the adjacent field. They stood staring for a few moments, and sensing no further danger, returned to nibbling the bright grass.

"Magic, huh?" he said.

"Amazing. And where's your house?"

Two minutes of cautious downhill progress brought them to an area of overgrown trees with tall brick chimneys towering above them. Dimitri bumped onto a set of cattle-stop bars and into a driveway where the vegetation arched overhead in a green tunnel. In the burst of sunshine at the end sat a white van and a red pickup truck.

As they emerged into the welcome light, Rose stared, astounded. Paintless planks had weathered to silver-grey. The roof was a sea of rust. Many of the windows were broken. The once proud veranda sagged like suggestive eyebrows above the twin bay windows.

She pulled in a deep breath. "How much did you pay for this wreck?"

"Probably too much, but once it's restored it'll be beyond price. Come and see."

A tall red haired man appeared from the far side of the house and raised a hand in greeting.

"Evan Greerson," Dimitri said, killing the engine. "He'll be your contact. Watch him."

He stepped out, strode around to Rose's side of the car while she fought with the unfamiliar seat belt, and opened her door. "Give me your hand."

Once out, she almost lost her footing on the uneven ground—the perfect excuse for him to slide an arm around her and pull her in close. Now the scent of his body swirled all around her. A potent mix of freshly laundered cotton, warm skin, and a trace of cologne. Even more enticing than when he'd leaned over to toss her bag and the plans onto the back seat. She closed her eyes and enjoyed him for a moment, knowing she was safe from falling because of his protective arm.

"Those boots weren't made for a building site." He sent her a fond but admonishing look.

"I didn't know you'd be bringing me here when we got dressed this morning," she said, playing along with his 'we-are-a-couple' scenario as the builder came close enough to hear.

"Roza—meet Evan Greerson. Evan—Rose."

Rose reached out to shake his callused hand and found hers held for a few seconds too long. And was that a sneaky tickle along her palm from one of his fingers? God, the man thought he was some sort of Don Juan! She pulled out of his grip and said, "Nice to meet you, Evan," wrenching her eyes from his too-intrusive gaze as soon as she politely could.

Dimitri sensed, or saw, her unease. "Roza will always know where to find me if I'm out of town—or out of the country."

"In case you have any urgent queries," she added, stressing the 'urgent'.

The builder stood in a relaxed slouch. A big man—as big as Dimitri. As strong as Dimitri, to judge by the hard muscles of his long legs and arms.

_And doesn't he just fancy himself._

Rose turned as the sound of hammering echoed over music from somewhere out of sight. She heard the sea, and smelled its salty breath now.

"Sounds like the other half of the team's on the job." Dimitri steered her around to the back of the house and bent to reduce the volume of a paint splashed radio. Here a much younger man worked on the timber framing surrounding a huge concrete slab.

"Brendan," Dimitri greeted him as he inspected the progress with evident approval. "Going well."

He placed his hands on Rose's shoulders and turned her toward the view.

She peered through the scrubby trees edging the cliff. Fifty feet below, the ocean raced up a crescent of empty sand—only to be sucked back to fling itself forward again. The water spread, blue and sequin-spangled, to the horizon. Like a sleeping green dragon, Kapiti Island sat a few miles out, clothed in dense forest, a secure sanctuary for thousands of native birds.

"It's wonderful," she agreed as shivers of elation raced up her spine. "I can see why you wanted it. The view, anyway—I'm not so sure about the house." She turned doubtful eyes toward the wreck behind her. The old back door stood open, creaking in the breeze. "Is it safe to go in?"

"Yeah, but take it carefully," Evan Greerson warned. "There's a lot of stuff strewn around. Plenty of broken glass. And I wouldn't try tap-dancing on the staircase."

"Okay, no dancing," she agreed.

Dimitri reached for her hand again.

"Gonna carry her over the threshold?" Brendan asked, making the wrong assumption about who she was.

"Might just do that."

She squeaked as Dimitri swept her up, cradled her against his chest, and strode away from the two men.

"Put me down!" This felt much more dangerous than his playful grab in the office, or her comfort-hug at the apartment.

An expression of brooding intensity settled over his features and burned from his snapping dark eyes straight into hers as he walked. She shivered, despite the heat of his body.

Shivered or trembled?

Plastered against him, she savored the magic flexing of his muscles as he adjusted the weight of her in his arms. Thrilling.

Dangerously thrilling. And still she held his gaze, but finally the sensation of all that hard male flesh surrounding her was too much. She squeezed her eyes closed and tucked her face in under his chin, mouth against his neck.

Mistake.

Big mistake. Now she knew exactly how hot and smooth his skin felt against her super-sensitive lips. She breathed in his salty fresh scent. And was tempted to slide her tongue out a fraction and taste him. Did she dare? She murmured her disquiet and moved a little—only to hit the start of the scratchy line of his late afternoon stubble. The blatant masculinity of it almost undid her.

Reluctantly Dimitri loosened his grip and set her on her feet. He cleared his throat with a growl. What the hell had possessed him to grab her like that...lift her into his house like a new bride?

"So out there," he said, trying to shake the moment off, "big living area. Floor to ceiling windows and doors, all the view. In here, bedrooms, bathrooms, whatever."

He moved far enough away from her for the heat to fade a fraction. Shards of brittle old glass crunched under his feet, and mysterious filtered light cast gloomy shadows because the builders had covered some of the broken panes with sheets of plywood.

"It must have been spectacular once." Rose said, sounding as strangled as him as she moved through to the oak paneled hallway.

"And it will be again."

She caught his eye and looked away fast. "However did it get into this state?"

"It was the original farm homestead. The current farmer divorced and remarried, and the second wife refused to live in the first wife's house."

"What a waste."

"Yeah. Their loss, my gain. Back in the seventies, they built a house much closer to the road, used this as workers' accommodation for a while, and then deserted it. God knows why."

Rose kicked at a few long strands of dried grass drifting across the muddied timber floor. She turned back to him and said in a steadier voice, "So they really did keep hay bales in here?"

"All sorts of farm stuff."

"How did you know it was for sale?"

"It wasn't. I saw it from the beach on a fishing trip. Well, I spotted the chimneys and climbed part-way up the cliff to see what they belonged to."

"And fell in love?"

"Fell in lust. Had to have it. Persuaded the farmer to sell me the house plus two acres."

She looked at him more directly. "So you wanted a gentleman's retreat?"

He felt the bite in her words. "I'm not a gentleman."

"A rich man's retreat, then?"

That felt more comfortable. "Working on it. Call it my whim. My project. My base for the future. The way I was dragged up I never really had a base."

A small smile touched the corners of her luscious mouth. "Me either. My parents' house, then the orchard, a flat with some friends for a while, Grandpa's small house once he got sick, my brother's place, and now I'm looking after Kelly's apartment for a fortnight."

"And after that?"

The smile disappeared. "You know what happens after that. As soon as my passport arrives, I'm gone." She turned away from him and walked up the hallway, reaching out to peel a thin strip of ancient paper from the wall above the oak paneling as she did. Streamers of it hung and fluttered everywhere.

His gut churned. He clenched his jaw and wondered how to make her stay.

She walked on—a slender silhouette against the bright light spilling through the glass of the intricate lead-lighting in the front door. After a few more steps, she drew level with the grandly proportioned old sitting room and peered in. "Dimitri! This could be wonderful."

So maybe she'd started to see what he saw?

He waved her in. "Master bedroom I thought. There's a ton of room to divide off a dressing room and en suite bathroom."

She nodded as she glanced around. One of the multi-faceted bay windows fronted the long room, with views out to rolling countryside and a backdrop of dark forested hills. Remnants of furniture remained—faded, fraying, but giving a faint feel of long ago occupation. Three disintegrating beaded lampshades hung from tarnished brass chains, and she gazed up at them, lips parted.

An urgent need to kiss her throat grabbed him and shook him to his shoes. He reached out and ran a finger up her silky skin, surprising a gasp out of her.

"Stay just like that," he said.

"Why?"

He answered by cradling her face in his hands and bending to brush a hot open-mouthed kiss right where her pulse beat hard and fast."Because I want you to."

He did it again, higher this time. Rose made a small, strangled noise that he translated as 'more please'. The builder's radio, the hammering, the rhythmic swoosh of the sea all faded to nothing

"No," she groaned, trying to wriggle away.

"Why not?" he asked against the corner of her mouth.

"Because I'm leaving."

He kissed her anyhow, frustration biting hard as his cock swelled against her, apparently unwelcome.

* * *

**Hee hee, hope you enjoyed! I know some of you will be thinking why Evan should be Mason but I have something planned and I didn't want to ruin Mason's image to me. You'll see soon!**

**The next time I am going to do a special 'review deal' is on chapter 17. It will be a different deal though, better for you guys in my opinion.  
Let me know what you think about these 'review deals' and I'll see if I can do them more often :D**

**7Becky7**


	9. Chapter 9

**Page breakers. You know what that means.**

***Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy, not me!***

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Dimitri reversed down the green tunnel twenty minutes later. They'd checked out the rest of the house, and Rose kept well out of his grasp.

He'd spread the plans on an ancient unraveling cane table in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and gone over them with her before they talked more with Evan. Plainly she still thought he was mad taking on such a huge restoration job, but from her comments he saw she pictured the finished house.

He needed to get back to the city for a late meeting at the bank. Nothing too formal—a drink, a chat, hit them up for another half-mil in case Sydney happened sooner than expected.

He glanced at his watch as he reached highway speed, highway speed being a flexible concept in a car like his. He wound the Ferrari up, amused at Rose's expression, hoping the throaty roar and rocketing speed would thrill her.

But—precious cargo, he reminded himself, easing back on the gas again.

Two hours later, he knocked on her apartment door, hoping she was home, hoping she'd answer, just plain hoping.

"You again," she grumbled, flushed, tousled and irresistible.

"I've come to drink the rest of that wine."

She stood her ground, blocking the doorway. Looked like it wasn't going to happen...

"And I've bought gifts?" he tried, producing her sandals from behind his back. The sandals she'd kicked off before changing into the killer stilettos the day before. He'd driven both girls home, and she'd forgotten them under the seat.

"Oh." Her tone became slightly more gracious as she reached for them. "Thank you Dimitri."

Suddenly—a metallic bang, a noise like breaking china, a feline yowl and the thump of a furry body jumping down from somewhere it shouldn't have been. Rose whirled around to investigate, and Dimitri followed her in, secretly thanking the cat.

"Zorro!" she exclaimed. The culprit dived out through the cat door, leaving Rose to discover the little Kentia Palm lying on its side in the sink. The terracotta pot had broken into three pieces. Potting soil garnished the scene of the crime.

"Not too bad," Dimitri said, scooping the tree up while Rose muttered under her breath and rummaged in the cupboards. She found a stainless steel basin as a temporary home for it, then set the pot shards back on the end of the counter.

"I'll have to find a replacement pot. At least it's nothing fancy." She turned and glared at the cat, now licking a dainty paw on the balcony. Then her eyes came back to his. "Wine?"

So he wasn't entirely unwelcome?

She produced two glasses. Dimitri reached for the bottle, poured, and pushed one across to her.

"We were having a game with that piece of string." She indicated a length on the floor. "She must have jumped up after it when I put it down to answer the door."

He took a deep swig of the wine. "My fault then."

"Yes. Definitely." She shot him half a smile.

His tense muscles started to relax. "So that's why you're looking all hot and bothered?"

"I'm not..."

"Yeah," he murmured, setting his glass down, and touching her hair. "You're looking pink and breathless and as though you've been having fun."

"Pulling a bit of string around for a cat?"

She hadn't moved away from him. Hadn't even picked up her wine. Was still standing right there, eyes wide, as his fingers continued to play in the silky dark strands. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat as she raised her hand and touched his cheek.

"You shaved." She moved her fingers so they rasped against the close grain of his whisker growth.

"You noticed."

All around them, the air turned electric. Then Dimitri bent his head and took her mouth.

Rose gasped as bolts of delight shot through her. All the years of waiting and wanting fell away, and the afternoon's resistance counted for nothing.

* * *

She smoothed her hands up through his hair, kneading and tugging, pulling him closer. As his tongue stroked against hers in velvet caresses and his thumb found a nipple and teased it to full delicious tightness, she moved against him voluptuously, thrilling at the hardness rising to press against her belly.

With a fierce growl, he tugged her tight, kisses turning deep and desperate. Then he pulled her sideways a few steps, pushed her down onto the sofa cushions, and slid over her. Pinned beneath him, surrounded by his scent, she eased her thighs apart to settle him deeper into their welcoming cradle. Still he kissed her—ravenous wine-flavored bites and licks that she met with equal hunger.

Until she pushed him away. "Dimitri," she gasped. "We can't do this."

He laid his forehead on hers, breathing heavily.

"Damn," he said, pulling back far enough to focus on her eyes. His pupils shone huge and black with desire.

From somewhere she found the courage to add, "Not here. Not like this. But there's a bed."

A few seconds of absolute silence passed.

"Just like that?" His voice had edged huskier, deeper. It reached right into her center and started warm places heating to hot.

"Well, we could talk some more," she murmured. "Or we could do that later. You feel," she nipped his bottom lip and nudged her hips against him, "as though you'd rather talk later."

"Roza. Hell. Where's the bed then?"

He scooped her up against his chest as he stood.

"Through there," she indicated, still amazed he could lift her as though she weighed almost nothing. She'd seen those shoulders, but even so...

It was only a few paces. He set her down next to the bed and gently released her.

All she saw was him, face serious and intent. His eyes burned with fierce fire. His beautiful mouth had no carefree grin now.

He stood close and reached across to the zipper marching down the front of her red tunic.

"Have you any idea how much I've wanted to undo this all day?" he growled. "I've been itching to rip your clothes off. Before I even knew who you were, I found you damned gorgeous." He started to draw the zipper down. "You were so annoyed at me, and such a challenge, I could barely keep my hands off."

"Goes both ways," Rose whispered, hitching her thumbs under the sides of his T-shirt and pushing it up. Dimitri deserted her zipper, grasped his T-shirt hem, peeled it up past his face, and tossed it at the wall.

"Comrade..."All that taut flesh was too much to take in at a glance. Her eyes roamed from his face to his shoulders and down over his hard-muscled, hair-dusted chest. She leaned forward and licked the intricate tattoo on one shoulder, dragging in his scent. Her heart jolted and slammed behind her ribs.

"God you're beautiful," she breathed.

While his fingers continued to undo her top, hers drifted down his long tanned torso to the waistband of his bulging jeans, reached for his straining zipper, and carefully rasped it down. Fine tremors of anticipation feathered across her skin, hot one moment, icy the next. She'd never wanted a man so much. Never been brave enough to take the initiative like this before.

She wrestled the waistband button through the denim until it gave way. Dimitri lost interest in the front of her top; now his whole attention switched to her hands as she peeled his jeans aside. He stared down, lashes casting spiky shadows on his cheekbones. He stood exactly below one of the ceiling-recessed lights, gilded to bronze in the stark white room.

His cotton briefs sat low on his hips, so it was easy for Rose to curl her hand around the hard rod of flesh that sprang out to meet her.

His indrawn breath pleased her very much.

She took a step backward and sat on the bed. Found the courage to grip both sides of his jeans and push them partway down his thighs. Followed with the briefs.

His big rosy cock swayed in the light, jutting up toward her like a separate being.

She made some sort of noise—lust or longing or admiration—and she bent to smell and taste him. Exotic. Terrifying. So desirable that saliva pooled under her tongue.

He'd showered. She smelled soap and clean cotton and again that salty fresh scent she'd noticed earlier.

Essence of Dimitri.

Unable to resist, she parted her lips and enclosed the whole plump end of him in wet heat. He threaded his hands into her hair, braced his legs apart a little and grunted quietly, trying to hold still but not entirely managing. The instinct to thrust was programmed so deeply he pushed forward, then drew back again.

Rose's hands wandered out and grabbed his hips, holding him where she wanted him. Right there. Like that.

So she could take more of him into her mouth.

So her tongue could slide across the glorious shape of him, investigating ridges and textures and mysteries.

So she could suck and lick and wrap a hand around him to squeeze and slide until she heard his breathing change and she ripped another grunt out of him.

"Roza," he whispered hoarsely. "The only other time you touched me there I came in a flash." He hitched in another breath. "Not going to last forever if you keep doing that. Hell!" He jerked against her tongue.

A deep rolling shudder passed through him as he cupped her face and tried to get free. "I'd rather come inside you. Let me go."

Slowly she drew back, watching how his cock pulsed and shone under the light, how it flexed and shuddered without apparent control. Impossible to look away.

"You don't need to undo all of my zipper," she said, reaching down to the hem, pulling her top upward, then bending to push off her boots. She stripped out of her jeans while Dimitri wrestled with his own.

"Did I really make you come?" She still remembered the handkerchief he'd stuffed down his pants so long ago, and his uncontrolled cursing. At the time she'd been mystified, but as the years passed and she'd learned more, she'd wondered.

"Like a stud bull," he said with a wry grin, sitting on the bed where she'd been, drawing her toward him and tracing over her lacy bra with caressing fingers.

She laughed at his comment and he looked at her with hot dark eyes. "Don't knock it—it was memorable. I just about passed out. And this time I get to play with you the way I wanted to back then."

She reached back and unhooked her bra. Dimitri's hands slid under the lace in an instant, holding her like treasure, squeezing and molding her breasts. His thumbs found her nipples, and it took only the slightest touch to harden them again. He rubbed until they were tight peaks of sensation.

His expression relaxed to one of drowsy satisfaction, eyes half closed, lips parted to show a gleam of teeth. "Please Miss, can I see?"

She shimmied the bra down her arms, so turned on that anything he wanted, he'd be getting. Had it really been less than half an hour since he'd arrived? Now he sat naked before her, fully aroused, spot-lit in all his potent male detail, and looking very comfortable about it. And she stood in only her panties, hoping they'd be disappearing sometime quite soon.

As though he'd heard her innermost thoughts, he hooked his thumbs under the elastic and started to push them off.

Moments later, he returned to her breasts, leaning forward from where he sat on the bed and smoothing his face against them, inhaling her scent, murmuring how pretty they were.

"Please," she begged, trying to get him to suck her as he'd done years ago.

"So soft," he whispered, avoiding her nipples yet again.

"Dimitri," she moaned, turning to line herself up with his beautiful mouth.

"Little Roza, you're all grown up..."

"Suck," she insisted.

One hand smoothed down over her belly and he found her clitoris with consummate ease. She jumped at the unexpected contact. How smoothly that knowing fingertip skated across her skin. God, she was so turned on and slippery, and that...felt...fantastic...

"Bite me," she begged, and he did. But not where she wanted him to. He turned his head and nipped her arm, before giving her throbbing nipple a quick swipe with his tongue.

_Not enough. Not enough._

Then he pulled away to blow a stream of cool air across it so it beaded even tighter, and ached and ached.

"Comrade..."

She heard his soft chuckle as clearly as she felt his finger sliding inside her.

"Not fair," she moaned. "You know what I want. You used to want to do it too."

The finger withdrew, glistening wet, and he resumed his exquisite fondling.

Rose pressed closer between his thighs, nestling her face into his hair, smoothing her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. She needed his mouth, wanted it so much that when he finally closed his lips around her she let out an involuntary cry of bliss.

So heavenly—the heat, and the tugging, and his clever tongue.

His smooth lips, and the hard dangerous thrill of his teeth as they nipped and nibbled.

The slow line of kisses across to the other breast where he once again suckled deeply.

The musky scent of their bodies rising in the narrow space between them.

The sparkling thrill rushed all through her. Stronger and stronger as his finger circled faster and more insistently—until her internal muscles drew up and up and exploded in great clenching shudders of release.

She collapsed against the big tattoo on his shoulder and bit it to stifle her scream.

Dimitri pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her in case her legs gave way; she quaked and panted as though she'd run for her life.

_Some response, baby! Jesus, you're wonderful..._

He coaxed a still-trembling Rose onto the bed, smiling at her expression of dazed satisfaction. The bedside lamp shone on the foil packets of the condoms he'd grabbed earlier from his pocket, making them sparkle and flash.

_Plenty of time for them later._

He located the main light switch and snapped the overheads off so they didn't dazzle her. Then he stretched out, leaning up on one elbow, just looking his fill.

Traffic swished by in the road below, and sudden rain spattered on the windows. Inside the bedroom, it was warm, dimly lit, and infinitely more welcoming. The real world could go to hell for a while.

"Comrade," she murmured. "Thank you. Incredible."

"Not finished yet."

"No," she agreed. "I've barely started on you."

"And I'm nowhere near finished with you."

He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, then drifted to her collarbone. She smelled sweet and fragrant—like honey and raspberries on a warm summer's day. He closed his eyes, and operating on touch alone cupped one of her breasts in his hand and licked and teased her some more.

"It never felt like that in the packing shed," she said in a breathy murmur.

"The implement shed. Remember all the machinery?"

"So it was. We were lucky Grandpa never caught us."

He was profoundly thankful for that. "I guess your body wasn't developed enough, back then." He slid down the bed, stroked her belly, ran a finger around and around her navel, and followed with his lips.

"Not a natural blonde," he whispered, playing in the neat little streak of blonde a few inches lower.

"You know I'm not," she mumbled, stretching like a contented cat.

Dimitri eased over her, pushing her thighs apart until he could bury his face there. God, the scent of a woman feeling sexy! He breathed her in, forcing her legs further apart with both hands when she tried to retreat into modesty.

"Surrender to the inevitable," he teased, holding her where he wanted her and sliding his tongue over her clit.

Rose's hips jolted in response.

"I'm allowed to treat you like a big girl now. All the things I couldn't do back then. All the things I'd only heard about. Anything you want," he whispered.

He licked her again as though she was premium ice-cream. "Anything you want at all."

Another lick.

"What would you like me to do, Roza?"

"Just...that..." she gasped in a strangled voice.

He smiled, enjoying his effect on her, tongue lapping slowly and deliberately at the juicy little peak. "Not this?" he asked a dozen soft strokes later, inserting a long finger.

Her sharp inhalation told him she liked that very much too.

"And if I pressed up here...?"

"Oh God Dimitri, yes!"

"Found the sweet spot, have I?" Her fractured breathing and sexy little moans were answer enough. She'd relaxed her thighs completely, open to whatever he wanted. Her aroused clit now pushed out like the sweetest candy. He pursed his lips around it and sucked with a steady rhythm, massaging it from underneath with his finger pulsing deep inside her.

Soon he felt the first of her tiny tugs and flutters. He'd imagined this almost constantly. Roza out of control—because she was normally very much in control. His aloof and capable new secretary with her so-perfect suit and sky high heels reduced to a keening growling kitten, animal as anything, and all for him.

Now he had the extra thrill of knowing her true identity. His naughty little playmate, finally ripe and ready, so many years later.

Rose hissed in a sharp breath and tensed. She teetered on the very brink of orgasm and he pushed her a little further. Finally she gave a wild cry and came apart in a juddering, panting storm, one hand clenched in his hair, the nails of the other scoring his neck.

He smiled, oblivious to the pain, and when she was done, reached for the first of the condoms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you to everyone who has supported me!**

***Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Academy. Richelle Mead owns it!***

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**(Lemon continued from last chapter)**

* * *

Rose lay gasping, dimly hearing Dimitri rip the glittering packet apart. The blood roared in her ears and guilt tried to eat at her conscience.

This was taking her 'whole new life' to levels she hadn't planned.

In bed with Dimitri Belikov? So fast? One moment she'd been picking up broken terracotta, and the next she found herself pinned underneath him being kissed to death.

And she'd invited him to bed. More than invited—pretty well dragged him.

She'd turned into a sex maniac. It was the only explanation.

She stirred as Dimitri moved and planted a knee on the other side of her. The mattress dipped under his weight as he straddled her hips. His big testicles brushed against her belly and his impressive cock pointed straight at her breasts.

He held her face between his hands as he kissed her long and deeply, lifting and returning, insatiable. And she burned every bit as hot and hungry for him. Wanted him without further delay. Why was he still only kissing her?

She reached between their bodies, impatient, demanding more with eager hands. One sliding beneath his balls and weighing them with a growl of approval. One gripping his cock and trying to nudge him lower, lower, so she could take him inside. She had itches that needed rubbing, folds and creases moist with desperation, a hot wet place where he'd feel so good...

Oh thank God, he'd pushed a thigh between hers. He'd settled closer to where she wanted him. She struggled to free her other thigh so he'd take her.

"Roza," he murmured, amusement obvious in his tone. "What's the rush?" He held her confined and helpless as she tried to pull free—so much stronger she hadn't a chance of moving him, so much bigger she might have been scared if she'd not known him better.

She thrust a belligerent chin up at him, drew her lips back in a snarl. "Want you _now_."

He clamped her hands in his own much larger ones and pinned them above her head, looking down at her as though he saw a disobedient child.

"Now," she moaned. "_Now_, Dimitri."

No pride left, only raging desire.

He kissed her again, a deep probing kiss that let her know with his tongue what he intended eventually for her aching, oh-so-ready body.

She burned. Flames licked up and down, deep inside.

Finally, he lifted his other thigh and she pulled hers apart, wide as she could, tilting her hips up like the lewdest of harlots.

He transferred both her hands to one of his, took his cock in the other, and began to feed it far too slowly into her hot twitching flesh. He entered in begrudging increments, pushing his heaviness deeper and deeper like exquisite torture.

"Comrade..." She wriggled.

"Hold still." Not asked politely.

His invasion continued in tiny fractions, and no matter how she tried, she couldn't hurry him.

"Hold still, dammit. I want to feel every inch of you."

She glared at him, but he'd aroused her so thoroughly she had no shame, no reservations, only this raging greed.

"You're small," he said. "I'm not. I don't want to hurt you."

She instantly stopped her hurry-up tactics, overwhelmed by his care. Yes, he'd looked big, but she'd never seen a man spot-lit like that before. Every detail visible, totally on show, no fumbling embarrassment or awkward modesty.

"Thank you," she muttered, ashamed of herself now for acting the way she had. And in he pressed, gentle, careful, stretching her to her limits.

But she yearned to feel him moving. Wanted him sliding and pumping inside her, and setting her nerve-endings alight with sensation again. The sight of him above her was such a turn-on, such a promise of good things to come, that it took all her resolve and determination to hold still.

He exhaled and closed his eyes. Rose saw the edges of his mouth curl up and knew he'd finally buried himself all the way. "So I'm just the right size for you," she teased.

His grin widened at her no-doubt smug expression, and with a great exultant groan of satisfaction, he began to thrust, slow and sure and deep.

She wrapped her legs around him, following the rhythm he set, rocking against him, and relishing the delicious sliding invasion…the thrill of his total possession.

Wrenching her hands from his, she urged him on by grabbing his shoulders, scraping her nails over his neck and through his hair, pulling him close for hungry, desperate kisses.

Dimitri wove a long, slow storm of passion, hotter, more savage, ever more thunderous, until Rose writhed with such intense desire that he clamped an arm around her waist to hold her close and tight. Her breasts tilted up against his chest, nipples rubbing against dark hair. Sensation upon sensation rolled through her as he pushed, retreated, pushed deeper, faster, finally pushed her over the crest so she clung to him breathless, gasping his name, grinding herself against him until he too shuddered and groaned, incoherent.

They slid down into a warm, dark place together, hands gentle, lips meeting and parting, eyes slumberous. Rose never wanted to leave.

* * *

"What the...?" She muttered sleepily some time later. Dimitri chuckled, shaking her awake because she lay sprawled all over him. His big hands cradled her butt, holding her in place.

The strange rattling noise continued.

"What is it?" she whispered, worried Kelly might have returned to her apartment unexpectedly.

"It's your new cat having a midnight snack. Chasing dry kibble around her plate."

She huffed out an annoyed breath, and then exclaimed, "Midnight?"

"Not quite. Figure of speech."

"Did I doze off?"

"Sleepy girl. Too much action for one night?"

She shot him her best narrow-eyed glare, which seemed to have no effect. He felt like a warm and very well-sprung mattress. Or should that be very well-hung? Hell, no doubt about it!

"There's still part of a bottle of good wine out there," he said. "Shall I bring it in?"

"Unless you'd rather have coffee? I can probably make my shaky legs walk to the kitchen."

"I'll get the wine." She heard amusement and satisfaction in his voice. He dropped a kiss on her hair and slid out from under her.

Rose watched him push the covers aside and rise. His arms and shoulders bunched and flexed, and his back stretched long and strong above a very cute butt and sensational tanned legs.

Something behind her ribs gave a lurch of regret. If only she'd met him under other circumstances and at another time… It would be much harder working with him now, and it had been bad enough before. When the burn of attraction zinged between them at the fitness center, she'd have a murderously tough time keeping her mind off him and on her work.

But she had to escape New Zealand now she was finally free. She really didn't want to give in to his potent attraction again. If they had a short-term affair she knew she'd fall hard, and then leaving him would tear her heart to shreds.

They'd have to treat this evening as one-time-only fun.

Somehow.

_Who am I kidding?_

Should she suggest he employed a different temp in her place? Or hurried up his search for a permanent replacement for AWOL Mia and soon-to-be mom Jill? She turned the options around and around, not liking any of them much.

Dimitri brought their glasses into the bedroom and she held the bedcover up so it was easier for him to slide in beside her.

"Shame to waste it," she agreed.

"It won't be wasted. If we don't finish it tonight I'll give you a lift home from work tomorrow and we can polish the rest off then."

Her face must have shown her dismay because he asked, "Problem?"

She quailed under his alert gaze.

_Hell, best to tackle it now._

"Um, this shouldn't have happened."

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"I'm working for you for the next month. How can we do this as well?"

"This?" He slid an arm around her and pillowed her head against his shoulder. Damn, but she fitted there perfectly...

"Bed," she elaborated. "Sex. I think you should get a new temp to take over."

"And then you'd feel better about having sex with me?"

She drew an annoyed breath. "No. It would be better not to have sex at all. I'm going traveling as soon as I can. I'd rather not start a relationship I can't commit to." She peered up at him. "Not that sharing a bottle of wine over separate nights means it's a relationship," she added hastily, embarrassed by the description she'd given. "A bit of a fling maybe. I don't do those."

He sent her an unreadable look—not exactly disbelief and not exactly agreement either.

"So what am I doing in your bed when I only expected to talk? It wasn't me who suggested it."

The blush rushed up her neck, hot and embarrassing. "You brought my sandals back. And helped me clear up the palm-tree mess. You deserved a hug."

_Shame on you, Roza — that sounds so feeble._

His disbelief definitely won out after that. His lips quirked and his eyes closed briefly, and she could see he found her explanation amusing and ridiculous.

"You drag every helpful man you find into bed for 'a hug', Roza?"

She ground her teeth with annoyance. "Not what I meant, and you damn well know it."

"But you meant it about not being able to work with me any longer? Don't flatter yourself—I can keep my hands off you if you can keep yours off me."

She managed not to point out he had a hand curled around her left breast at that moment, and seemed to have no intention of removing it.

"Well, you're going to have to find a new permanent P.A. in the next week or two, so why not start now?"

"I'll think about it," he said, in a tone that said he wouldn't. He tipped his glass up and drank, and then he slid into detective mode again. "Can we get back to your orchard and see if there are any missing pieces that might be helpful for tracing my real parents?"

She nodded agreement. She'd forgotten how bad he must still feel. "Not my orchard. Grandpa's orchard. And he sold it six years ago."

"So what was I doing there? There must be a connection. Did he know Greg? Unlikely, I think. Old Erik was pretty straight-laced, and Greg was anything but." He gave her nipple a sneaky tweak and she caught her breath. "He always referred to your grandparents as 'Aunt Felicity and Uncle Erik' but I know they weren't.

"What does your birth certificate say?" she asked, waiting for the ripples of sensation to ebb away.

"Looks absolutely normal to me. Place of birth Hastings, New Zealand. Name, Dimitri Belikov. Date of birth, father, mother. Shown as Greg Belikov and Olena Belikov. No hint of anything else. But it's got to be forged. Dad—Greg—had all sorts of dodgy connections."

"Maybe you were Grandpa's secret son?"

"Yeah, like I really look Swedish." The thought was so absurd they both burst out laughing.

"Well you certainly weren't Grandma's. She only had my mother, and everyone said she was never very well after that. I've got a couple of pictures out there," she added. "By the TV. Shall I get them?"

She slipped out of bed and retrieved the two framed photos she'd set there the evening before, then curled up against him again, running a finger across the first shot.

"Grandpa, Grandma, Mom and Dad, Christian and me. It must have been right before Christian left and went to New York, so I would have been about ten."

Dimitri peered down at the photo and shook his head. "No clues there. They're your Mom's parents, are they? What about your Dad's?"

"Back in Turky. He came down here to New Zealand, met and married Mom, and didn't go home. They never forgave him, and never visited us. I want to contact them while I'm traveling—see if I can patch things up."

She showed him the other. "Taken at Grandma's funeral," she said, voice trembling slightly. "Grandpa and his twin brother... Grandma's sister Jessie and her husband...Silvia the housekeeping lady, and me."

She swallowed and made herself say it. "Mom and Dad weren't around by then. I was sixteen."

"Funky hat," he said, smiling at the squashy dark violet cloche with its upturned brim at the front.

"Great-aunt Jessie decided we should all look dignified for Grandma. She had this grim black one," Rose said, pointing. "Silvia sewed some black ribbon around that sunhat and hid behind her dark glasses as usual, crying the whole time. I probably shocked them in purple, but I wanted something brighter than what Gran made me wear to Mom and Dad's memorial service. That was awful."

He stared at the photo and then put it down. "I'm no further ahead."

"What have your parents said?"

He compressed his lips and looked away. "Haven't asked them. Can't stand the thought of talking to them yet. They're not back in town untiltomorrow anyway."

"Maybe you're your mother's son, but not your father's?"

Dimitri shook his head. "She wouldn't have had to adopt me. And the birth certificate shows them both as my apparently natural parents."

"You'll have to talk to them sooner or later."

"Later's good."

"But Dimitri, where else can you start? What did the doctor say?"

"Not much. Insisted I talked to Greg and Olena. Greg Joseph and Olena Antonia, by the way. Second names Joseph and Antonia – and my brothers are Joe and Tony. They named my so-called brothers after themselves because they're their natural children. I didn't get a mention."

She heard the palpable hurt in his voice and couldn't blame him. "So how did the doctor know?"

Dimitri expelled a huge noisy breath.

"I'm not certain what he said after the first few words. All I could hear was 'adopted, adopted, adopted.' I kind of blanked out with it I think."

"Maybe she told him they'd adopted you so he wouldn't get suspicious. In case of funny blood-types and so on. Doctors don't get to see birth certificates, do they?"

"No idea."

Rose sighed. "I think you should ask him now you've absorbed the shock."

"Yeah, maybe..."

"But your parents are still your best bet."

He tightened his arm around her. "Persistent, aren't you?" He set his empty glass down on the bedside chest and reached for hers.

"Not finished," she said, taking another swig.

He reached out for the second condom packet and dangled it in front of her. It flashed and sparkled in the dim light. "Nor am I."

"No way," she said, hoping it sounded firm.

He took her free hand and pulled it under the covers.

"No way," she repeated.

Slowly over his abs.

_God he's warm. And taut._

Down to something else warm. And taut. And long and hard. How could she resist?

"No," she tried again, but she could feel the smile sneaking over her face.

"Knew you'd see it my way." Dimitri folded her hand around his cock and sent her a grin of arrogant male satisfaction.

Rose sighed deeply, up-ended her glass, and swallowed the last of her wine.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you all for the support again.**

***Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Academy, Richelle Mean does!***

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"_That's_ how we work together and still have sex," Dimitri sighed happily, letting a luxurious stretch work right through his body and then pulling Rose in close again.

"That's not working together," Rose objected sleepily. "That's just having sex."

"Weren't you working? To make it good for me?"

"Oh, that," she murmured. "Yes I was working to make it good for you, but that's not what I meant, and you know it, you arrogant jerk."

He felt her nestle closer against him and slide a hand around his waist.

Watched as she tried to keep a serious expression on her pretty face and failed.

"I worked hard to make it good for you," he teased.

She laughed softly. "I noticed."

"And was it?"

"You know it was. Especially the 'hard' bit. The neighbors are going to wonder who's moved in next door. An axe murderer and his victim..." She elbowed him in the ribs. "Didn't think of that when you were winding me up, did you?"

"I'll have to gag you."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Handcuff me too while you're about it."

Dimitri's cock gave a lazy, rolling lurch at the thought. "You'd let me?"

"Only to my desk."

"Hmmm—on the job together and sex together. See, we can make it work, Roza."

"Dimitri," she muttered grumpily, "I don't _want_ to make it work. I've signed up for a month's assignment until my passport comes through, and then I'm off outta little old New Zealand." She twisted so she could look up and fix him with a sterner gaze. "I've spent twenty-six years here, and I want to see what else is out in the big wide world. Mom and Dad infected me with the travel bug. They had pictures of dozens of different countries pinned up on the walls at home. Were always planning trips they might take. I thought they had the ideal way to live. But then they died and I got stuck with Grandpa."

Dimitri winced at her turn of phrase. He'd thought her fond of the old man. "What happened with him?"

Rose sighed. "He had a stroke, poor darling. Quite a bad one."

He relaxed again. Not as hard-hearted as she'd sounded, then.

"The hospital rehab people were wonderful—they got him pretty mobile and managed to get some of his speech back, but you couldn't say he ever got properly well. He used to go to a daycare place sometimes, and he managed okay on his own when he had to. But I didn't dare leave him overnight."

"For six years? That must have cramped your style. With boyfriends, I mean."

"I know what you mean." She shot him a mischievous grin. "No Dimitri, it's amazing what you can do between seven-thirty and midnight if you really want to."

A tug of annoyance spoiled his warm teasing moment.

"Anyone special?" he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

"None of your business. I wouldn't ask you. You'd have too big a selection to choose from anyway. Do you ever hit on the clients at the fitness center? Nice toned bodies in stretchy little leotards? Hmm?"

"No," he snapped, grimacing with real annoyance now. "They hit on me."

"Ooooh, Comrade, poor old you..." She gave his shoulder a playful nip.

"Cut it out! Yes they do, if you must know. It used to be flattering, but these days I like to choose my own partners."

Rose tsk-tsked. "So I'm just another woman dragging you into bed against your will. Bad luck Comrade."

_Not that much against my will._

He turned his head and listened. What the fuck? His mobile ringing after midnight. What was wrong?

"Sorry." He slid away from her and found his jeans. Rummaged until he extracted the phone and opened it, then stared at the screen and read the text aloud.

"B COMING NOW. J."

"Jill?"

"Know anyone else expecting this week?"

Rose grimaced, thinking of Jill's hard work ahead. "Good luck, girlfriend," she murmured.

* * *

Without Jill, and without Dimitri all morning, Rose found herself rushed off her feet. Many people seemed to have nothing better to do than phone with queries because the weather kept them inside.

Unfamiliar with the time-sheets, it took her ages to attend to the payroll. To her annoyance, she had to resort to asking Rich for some explanation and guidance. She found names of staff she'd not met yet—people who worked early or late shifts to cover BodyWork's long opening hours. Dimitri was apparently a flexible and accommodating boss.

"Get a life!" she snapped at the switchboard as it demanded her attention yet again.

"Rose?" asked Cam, Jill's as-yet-unseen husband. "It's a girl! As beautiful as her mother. Both great. Which is more than you can say for me. What a performance—we'll never have another."

"Not this week, but you wait a while," Rose said, thinking of friends who'd declared the same. She sent her love and congratulations and asked when she could visit. Then she quickly composed an announcement for the notice boards in the locker rooms and the staff room, adding some pink clip-art balloons and a stork carrying a baby. She printed off several copies and pinned them up, then dashed out to collect the day's mail and buy a card for everyone to sign.

"Anything interesting?" Dimitri asked as she arrived back upstairs slightly out of breath and damp with rain. She'd twisted her long hair up to keep it dry.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, too surprised to be embarrassed. Then she remembered what they'd done the night before and a blush rushed up her neck and over her face.

"Adoption Services," he muttered. He glanced around to ensure he couldn't be overheard. "I went online this morning to see what else I could find out. By law, you have the right to information about your adoption once you turn twenty. They weren't too pleased when I turned up without an appointment, but this is something I really want an answer to."

Rose nodded, understanding his impatience, and imagining all too clearly his insistent manner with any unfortunate official he'd tried to get information from. He hadn't shaved. He was literally bristling—with indignation and stubble.

"But because I have an apparently valid birth certificate they can't help. So we're back to Olena and Greg. Like they're going to be keen to tell me!" His eyes glittered with determination.

Rose handed him the day's mail, hopeful it might distract him. "Will you open this or do you want me to?"

He flipped through the envelopes, took a couple, and handed the rest back before striding along to his office.

She felt almost relieved. No attempt to touch her, no secret kisses, no special smile. It was as though their sexy night had never happened.

After processing a couple of Visa payments, she wrote a congratulatory message to the new parents, and poked her head around Dimitri's door so he could be first to sign. "Sorry, should have told you. Jill had a daughter. I've bought a card." She waved it at him.

"Flowers?" he suggested. "Charge them to BodyWork. The details will be in the desk somewhere."

Yes, Rose had seen the page, carefully filed in the information folder. Jill had intimated Dimitri bought a lot of flowers. No doubt for a lot of different women.

"She likes yellow roses," he added, surprising her. "And get the flower shop to put some sort of baby thing with it. A teddy bear, a fairy doll...something?" He reached for the card, read her message, nodded, and scrawled a big black 'Dimitri' below it.

The reception bell dinged and Rose hurried away. Lissa stood there, dabbing at her nose with a tissue, and peering through the long glass wall at the array of machines and people using them. She looked like a fish out of water, shifting from foot to foot, and dressed in an obviously new cream tracksuit and gleaming white trainers. Rose grinned at the unexpected sight. "Come for lunch?"

Lissa swung around, plainly pleased to see a familiar face. "Darling—just the opposite. I'd like to get trim enough to wear that lovely suit I loaned you. I thought this might be the right place. Although..." She looked anxiously at one of the serious body-builders bench-pressing about as much as a small car.

"No," Rose assured her. "That won't be you. You could maybe enroll for a Pilates class to get supple to start with. Shall I see if any of our personal trainers are free?"

"A personal trainer?" Lissa murmured, looking impressed.

"Take a seat for a moment." Rose motioned her toward the sofa, remembering she'd seen Heidi heading to the staff room. Lissa would be a client well worth having.

As she whipped past Dimitri's office he called, "Got a minute, Rose?"

She backtracked a couple of steps and poked her head through his doorway. "I'm looking for Heidi—or anyone else who can talk to a possible new client. She has money. I don't want to keep her waiting."

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "Go. We can do this later."

She wondered about 'this' as she hurried on down the corridor, apologized to Heidi as she interrupted her early lunch, and led her back to introduce to Lissa. The phones immediately claimed her attention again, and she'd started jotting down a message to give to Jarrod when two big hands descended on her from behind. She stilled, and strong thumbs slid up and down her exposed neck and dug into the tense muscles of her shoulders. Dimitri's distinctive scent floated on the air, teasing her senses and reminding her of the deep dark pleasure he'd spun for her the evening before.

"Don't," she begged, relieved Lissa and Heidi had moved on. "This is exactly what I don't want happening. People will notice and talk."

"No-one's looking." His thumbs continued their heavenly massage through her cream voile top. "Have lunch with me."

"Why?" she asked, exasperated.

"Because we need to eat. Because it's almost time for a break. Because I want to talk some more." His hands deserted her shoulders as female voices drew nearer.

"Why me?" She dragged in a determined breath. "I'm not the one you should be talking to. Ask your parents."

"I'm working around to that. Need to be sure of my ground first." He looked up as Lissa and Heidi approached the desk again. "Have lunch with me," he murmured.

"No Dimitri—I don't want people talking."

"I'll meet you by the front door." And he'd gone, down the stairs in a whirl of long legs, leather jacket and wide smile.

Rose kept him waiting. She was quite content to sign Lissa up, process her payment, and talk a little about Kelly's apartment. Once she'd excused herself, grabbed her bag and jogged down the stairs, she found him sitting in his rain-spattered car at the street end of the alley. He was listening to the radio news and apparently unconcerned at the time she'd taken to arrive. He reached over and pushed the passenger door open.

She gave an exaggerated sigh, slid in beside him, and belted up. "So where are we going?"

"My place." He accelerated out into the traffic.

"Dimitri!" She shot him an aggravated glare. "I thought you meant a quick coffee somewhere nearby."

He met her eyes with an easy grin. "This'll be a lot more private. No worries about being seen with the boss."

"At the beach in weather like this?"

"Wait and see."

"And who's looking after BodyWork?"

"Someone on the team'll fill in where they need to."

Rose marveled he had such faith in his people and his systems. A reflection of his own abilities, she presumed. "You hardly need me at all then."

"I need you for things you can't imagine."

Oh, but she could, all too vividly.

After a couple of minutes, he made a sharp left turn and shot up a steep, narrow street. The engine relished the challenge and growled its way up as far as a stucco-finished art deco house painted pale blue with pink facings. Anything less like Dimitri she couldn't have imagined.

"It looks like a nursery rhyme," she exclaimed as he braked in the driveway.

He nodded sagely. "I keep telling Bonnie she's got the colors wrong. She's going to love that description."

"Who's Bonnie?"

"She owns this little fantasy."

"It's not yours then?" Damn—she hadn't meant to sound so suspicious.

He pushed his door open. "No, it's Bonnie's house. Her son Mike and I share it with her, for now." He waited for Rose to alight. "We're close to the city center with a great view. I travel quite a bit so I can come and go as I please, and she never minds. And she needs the rent."

Rose digested that while Dimitri unlocked the house. Presumably Mike was an adult so Bonnie wasn't in the first flush of youth. A landlady rather than a flat-mate, then? She found herself hoping so and pushed the thought away with annoyance. It was none of her business. She didn't want it to be her business. Why was she even interested?

He stood aside for her, and she climbed the two pink-painted concrete steps and preceded him in. The interior looked as quirky as the outside. Bonnie collected old china—color-themed collections of plates and jugs clustered on shelves and hung on walls that glowed sunshine yellow. At the end of the entrance lobby, a line of old Toby jugs glared down.

"I pictured you in a minimalist high-rise apartment with heaps of electronics," Rose said as she entered a sage-green living room. More china, hundreds of books, vases of peacock feathers and dried grasses...

"Been there, done that, got offered a silly price and took it." He smiled broadly. "Bet they wish they'd offered less, the way prices have dropped now. It suited me to have the cash on hand for other projects."

He led her to the kitchen, opened a can of seafood chowder, tipped it into a pot, and set it to heat. Two ceramic soup-bowls and spoons were ready and waiting on the table.


	12. Chapter 12

**A little extra longer chapter this time since you guys have been suffering from semi-shorter chapters!**

***Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Vampire Academy, not me!***

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"You planned this before you left this morning!"

"So?" He stepped close in front of her and tipped her face up for a lazy kiss.

Rose tried to pull back but found herself trapped between Dimitri's warm body and the hard edge of the kitchen counter.

_It's easier to kiss him, and you've got no fight left anyway._

She relaxed into him and enjoyed the embrace, even though she'd sworn blind she wouldn't be doing it again.

His hands smoothed down her neck, out over her shoulders, along her arms. He threaded his fingers through hers and drew her arms around his waist until she stood flattened against him right down to her knees. And all the time his mouth settled...lifted...tilted onto even more delicious angles...captured her bottom lip and nipped gently...sucked on her top lip until she moaned with the pleasure of it.

Finally, she pulled away and laid her head against his chest. Somehow, she had to resist him. Somehow. Somehow. It seemed he had only to crook his finger and she become as eager to play as a six-week-old puppy. Why had she let this happen again? Why wasn't she tugging her hands away from his waist instead of sliding them up and down those lines of hard muscle beside his spine?

_Too many questions, not enough answers._

Last night had been bad enough. Or good enough, she corrected herself, pressing her sensitized lips together to try and banish the delight of his kiss.

He wanted, he took, she gave.

Last night had been the opposite. She'd been the one who'd wanted and taken. He'd been the one who'd given; given in to her very rapid invitation to bed. Given her orgasm after orgasm. Shame rippled through her.

"Dimitri," she sighed, "I'm sorry. I said I didn't want to get involved. I'm going traveling as soon as I've finished working for you. I don't need the complication of another man in my life."

"So I'm Rebound Guy?" His deep voice rumbled through the wall of his chest and into her ear.

"Only from Grandpa."

He laughed, and his warm chuckle set up a frisson of deep gnawing need, making her nipples tingle, and her pelvis feel full of heat and frustrated longing.

"Travel with _me_," he coaxed. "I'm off to Sydney in a few days to check out properties."

At least she had ammunition to fight _that_ off. "No passport yet, Dimitri. It'll be a while before I can go anywhere—I didn't apply for it until after Grandpa died. Anyway, I have a cat to feed."

The lid on the soup-pot started to dance as the steam lifted it. Dimitri released her and turned aside to lower the heat. "Make yourself useful with this then," he suggested, indicating a bread-board and knife and a bakery bag which she found concealed a crusty wholegrain loaf. He dug into the freezer and pulled out a pack of frozen prawn tails, tossed two generous handfuls into the chowder and replaced the lid so it could come to a simmer again.

Rose sawed away at the bread. Because she'd lived in Grandpa's house for the last eleven years, there'd never been any question of inviting men to potter in the kitchen with her before a sexy little dinner or for a morning-after breakfast.

It felt wonderfully intimate to be sharing domestic chores with Dimitri. Curiously nice. She bit her bottom lip and tried to ignore the quiet buzz of happiness.

She'd be leaving. Would probably never see him again after this month. And he wouldn't be interested in her on any long-term basis, so that was just as well.

"Don't jump," he said, right in her ear, but in her super-aroused state Rose did. His hands settled on her shoulders, and his lips touched the back of her neck. "Wouldn't want you taking fright and cutting yourself the way I did."

His breath puffed warm against her skin as he spoke. Then the heavenly sensation of his open mouth followed—hot, damp, incendiary, dragging down from her hair to the neckline of her cream top. She trembled as all her nerves lit up like tiny embers rushing from a bonfire. The knife clattered down onto the counter.

"You have the sexiest little chocolate hairs catching the light there. They look as though they should be licked flat." His husky whisper held her frozen, and she waited, unable to breathe while he proceeded to do exactly that. The sensation of his tongue on her nape felt almost as thrilling as it had on her clit the night before.

Somehow, in the hard noon light in the middle of a workday, with him unseen behind her, the intensity had ramped up to intolerable heights. If he could do this to her while she stood fully clad in a kitchen, she despaired of resisting him if he was serious about seducing her again somewhere dimly lit and romantic.

To her great relief the pot lid restarted its steam-dance. Dimitri gave a rueful curse and deserted her to pull the chowder away from the heat.

Rose picked up the knife with unsteady hands and cut another slice of yeasty smelling bread. Dimitri ladled out the savory soup.

They sat, and he started to talk. "I phoned Doc Latimer earlier. He said as far as he was concerned Olena adopted one son and then struck it lucky by having a couple of her own. Not uncommon apparently. He thought nothing of it until last Friday."

"He doesn't think your brothers are adopted too?"

Dimitri shook his head. "They're the image of Dad — Greg—and damn near as twisted. No, they're his."

"No further ahead then," she murmured, maneuvering a juicy prawn tail onto her soup spoon."

"I was clutching at straws. He wasn't always our family doctor. We lived in Hastings until I was sixteen. Then we moved here to Wellington."

"And I never saw you again. After we..." Rose knew she must look awkward. "I mean...I thought...maybe someone discovered what we'd been doing that final summer."

He sent her a long scorching gaze across the table. "I was a lot more careful of you than that."

She swallowed another spoonful of chowder as her body reacted to the heat in his eyes. Yes, he'd always been protective of her. Never rough. Never insistent. She'd joined in his games because she wanted to. Wanted to know more. Wanted to find out with _him_.

"So I have a favor to ask," he continued. "Will you come and see my parents with me? I want to use you as ammunition."

"How?" She was genuinely surprised. "What use will I be? It's private family stuff, Dimitri. You don't want a stranger there."

"But that's exactly it—you're not a stranger."

She shook her head, still puzzled. She'd never met them.

"I want to introduce you as Erik's grand-daughter and see if it rattles them. Maybe they'll think we know more than we do."

She stayed silent for a while, considering the idea.

"We don't need to say he's dead," Dimitri added. "It's unlikely they've heard. Please?"

"Would it be so terrible if you never found out?"

He stopped with his soup spoon halfway to his mouth. "How would you feel?" he asked. "If you didn't know what your background was, or who your parents were? If you discovered you'd been lied to your whole life?"

"It's really that bad?"

"Right now, yes. I might feel better in a few weeks, but currently I don't know where I belong, and I'm so damn fired up I just need to get on with it."

"Okay." She took a slice of bread. "When do you want to go?" She saw relief wash over his face.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight!" She put the bread down again. "Do you know they'll be home?"

"Not for sure, but surprise is a powerful thing. If I can catch them unprepared they might spill something they wouldn't otherwise."

"I planned on seeing Jill tonight."

"We can do both. Hit Greg and Olena first in case they're going out later. Then continue on and admire the baby. And end up at your apartment with the rest of that wine and some Thai or Indian?"

"And that's all you had in mind?" She picked up her bread once more and bit into it.

"Hell no—I want the full works again."

She drew breath at the wrong moment and choked on the crumbs. "Not going to happen," she spluttered as he grinned at her reaction.

But somehow it did happen. His parents weren't there. Rose felt almost relieved about that. Their home surprised her—a pleasant colonial that looked well cared for and more upmarket than she'd expected. Not that she knew the sort of home a criminal would choose or could afford.

Pink and apricot dahlias bowed their heavy heads in the rain. She had to hold them aside as she climbed the steps.

"It's nice," she murmured to Dimitri and they stood on the front deck after ringing the bell.

"Olena likes 'nice'," he replied laconically. "Likes to think she's fooling everyone that she's a respectable suburban matron. As if this isn't bought with drugs and double-dealing and God-knows-what."

Rose stayed silent a moment, digesting that. "There's no-one home," she said a few seconds later.

"We're out of luck, then. Damn." He took her hand and led her back to the car, standing looking at the house with bitter eyes before he beeped the doors unlocked and seated her.

"Drugs?" she couldn't help asking.

"You name it, he's into it—not that he knows I know."

Cold shivers ran along her spine. What if Dimitri was lying, and he was tied up with it too? Had he really made his own money with the fitness centers? "So how do you know about the drugs?" she asked.

"He closed her door, rounded the car, pulled his own open, and sat in silence for a while. She didn't dare question him further.

"Brothers," he said eventually, closing the door with a hefty thud. "Both hard-assed, and not much better than him." Another aching gap. Then he added, "I don't see much of them, but I've had a bit to do with one lately. He considers me family, and family doesn't rat on each other, so a few stories emerged."

He fired up the engine and gave it a vicious rev. Sat there with a closed expression on his face until at last he drew a deep breath and added, "Except I'm not family now. Suddenly a lot of things make sense."

He snapped his seatbelt closed and turned on the headlamps against the gathering gloom. "She's at the main hospital, is she?"

Jill looked tired but triumphant, and reached up to give Dimitri a kiss on the cheek to thank him for the yellow roses. Her new daughter squirmed and snuffled, mostly concealed by a pink blanket. Cam, brown haired and sleepy eyed, sat beside the crib, playing with the tiny fingers just visible above the blanket hem.

"He's besotted," Jill said with a smile. "She's Daddy's girl already."

Rose tucked her arm through Dimitri's once they were walking back along the corridor away from the overheated ward. She hated the troubled expression on his face. Six o'clock shadow darkened his jaw heavily now, and in the subdued light he looked feral and dangerous. "We could call by your parents' place again," she offered, not greatly wanting to.

"Nah," he said. "Bugger them. Let's grab something to eat and take it back to yours."

_Damn. He really needs an answer from them. He won't settle until he has it. We should at least try once more._

"They're not far out of the way," she said. "We'd be there in ten minutes. It might put your mind at rest if you talked to them?"

He shot her a glance that combined amusement with resignation. "Persistent," he confirmed. "I said you were persistent yesterday, and here you go again." He pulled his phone out and punched one of the pre-selects.

Rose smiled to herself. However much he might claim not to be close to his family they were only one jab away.

"Yeah, it's Dimitri. You're home?" A brief silence. "You weren't earlier. Uh-huh. Right. Just need to call by for a few minutes. See you." And he disconnected before there was a chance of being refused.

The rain had stopped but the roads were still slick. Dimitri retraced their former route and braked too hard outside the house. The fat tires bit into the graveled driveway and stones flew everywhere. "That'll give the old bastard something to do," he said with satisfaction. "He can rake the ruts out tomorrow."

Rose bit her bottom lip and tried not to smile at his mood. Here was a glimpse back to the surly teenager she'd known at the orchard. The boy who even then must have felt out of kilter with his family.

This time lights shone inside the house, and a blinding security lamp blasted on as they approached the darkened deck. A middle-aged blonde in black leggings and a zebra-striped tunic opened the front door, drink clutched in long-nailed fingers. "Dimitri," she said. "Long time no see."

"Olena." No kiss. No embrace. "Rose."

Rose wondered whether she should shake hands, but Dimitri's mother merely nodded and retreated inside, leaving Dimitri to close the door after them.

She led them into a large room furnished expensively in neutral tones. The news blared from a gigantic TV.

"Turn it down Greg," Olena demanded.

A rumble of annoyance issued from the depths of a tilted recliner chair. "Weather's almost due," a hoarse voice declared. A freckled hand grabbed the handle, the chair creaked into an upright position, and Rose got her first glimpse of Dimitri's father. Dimitri was no son of his.

Tiny shrewd currant eyes inspected her from a busy network of lines and wrinkles in a hard-lived-in face. A fringe of once-red hair had paled to brassy gold, well threaded with silver. He had huge ears, incongruously long sideburns and a smile that showed no teeth. Rose couldn't help wondering if the sideburns were a ploy to disguise the ears.

"To what do we owe the state visit?" he asked, waving them to a nearby sofa.

"Drink?" Olena suggested, suddenly hospitable. "Beer, Dimitri? Tea, coffee?"

Rose shook her head.

"Not right now," Dimitri said.

"Here we go." Greg turned the volume up again as the weather started. It seemed they were expected to watch. Rose caught Dimitri's eye and tried to stifle a giggle. The situation was absurd.

Dimitri leaned forward and planted his hands on his knees. "Dad!" he said, so loudly his father was obliged to kill the volume and pay him some attention. "You can watch the bloody weather update later. This is important. I found out on Friday I'm adopted. I want to know who my birth parents are."

"Dimitri..." Olena remonstrated, eyes jerking up from her carmine nails. "What a thing to come out with. And in front of a stranger as well." She glanced across at Rose, but didn't seem able to look at Dimitri again.

There was a moment of utter silence.

"All right—yes, you were," Greg barked. "Your Mom was having trouble getting a baby to stick and we had the chance to give you a home."

"_And?_"

"And nothing. It was a long time ago."

"And?" Dimitri said again. The dangerous edge on his voice set the hairs on the back of Rose's neck prickling. His temper was barely leashed. His dark eyes crackled with intense emotion and his voice vibrated with fury.

"It's thirty years ago, son. No sense crying over spilt milk."

"Fuck you, Greg—I'm not your son. I want to know whose child I am and how you swung it."

"I didn't 'swing' anything," Greg rasped irritably, turning to look at Dimitri full-on for the first time.

Rose couldn't help but compare them. Greg with his pasty debauched face and pale hair; Dimitri with his passionately alive features and vivid coloring.

Olena took a swig of her drink and went back to inspecting her nails. She scraped at a corner of the glittering varnish, obviously on edge.

"_Was I born in Hastings?_" Dimitri demanded.

"Maybe."

"Was I born in Hastings?"

"Geez, I don't know—probably."

"And why did you send me out to the orchard every school holiday?

"That's nothing to do with anything," Greg blustered.

"I think you're wrong. Rose is Erik Hathaway's grand-daughter and she thinks you're wrong too."

Greg and Olena immediately swung accusing eyes on her.

"Well, well, well. Old Erik," Greg muttered. "You used to like your holidays with Uncle Erik and Auntie who-was-it?"

"Felicity," Rose supplied.

"They weren't my aunt and uncle," Dimitri snapped. "I have Rose to back me up on that."

"Not your real aunt and uncle maybe, but as good as."

"So who were my parents?"

Greg now looked as though his patience was at an end. He dragged in a deep exaggerated breath. "Some little fruit-picking student girl," he ground out. "That's all I can tell you—okay?"

"From my grandfather's orchard?" Rose asked. "One of the seasonal pickers?" She looked across at Dimitri with anguished eyes. It sounded like a horribly dead end. "Why did Dimitri come and stay with us for holidays then?"

"You'll have to ask your grandmother that," Olena said with sudden bitterness. "She insisted. To make sure we were looking after the boy properly. As if we wouldn't." She gulped the final mouthful of her drink. "I've had enough. This is very upsetting. You shouldn't just spring things on people, Dimitri. I'm going to bed."

"It's not even eight o'clock," Greg objected.

"So?" She banged her glass down and hot-footed it away over the tasteful beige carpet.

"_Spring things on people?_" Dimitri bellowed. "How the hell do you think I felt when it was 'sprung' on me?"

"Who told you?" Greg's eyes glittered sharp and vengeful. Rose couldn't suppress a shudder of unease. He was a piece of work for sure.

"You're the one who knows everything, _Dad_. Work it out. How did you fake the paperwork anyway?"

"Work it out," Greg muttered in return.

A short thrumming silence surrounded them all.

"She was a little foreign girl," Greg added, apparently feeling some small shred of remorse. "Dark-haired like you. Can't you just be grateful you were given a good home and leave it at that?" He swiveled back to the TV and blasted the volume on again.

Rose slipped her hand into Dimitri's, feeling his rage in the deep trembling that wracked him. She stood and pulled him up. They walked wordlessly to the front door and left. The sharp odor of bruised dahlia foliage hung in the drenched air on the deck, and she was glad once they were enclosed in the car again, away from the smell.

"Some 'good home' I got," he needled, tipping his head back into the headrest, and making no attempt to start the engine. Olena and Greg's harsh security light caught the aggressive bristles on his up-thrust chin, making them sparkle like a forest of tiny cut-down tree trunks.

"Dimitri, I hate to say it but if she really was a foreign student who was fruit-picking...?"

"Yeah—instant dead end. I know. She could be anywhere."

She hated hearing him so defeated and bitter. Where had the energetic optimist gone? Not that she blamed him.

If only Greg had said Dimitri's mother was a picker, they'd have a place to start; could maybe interest the local paper in running a reunion search story, or failing that, advertise with a photo of Dimitri and see if anyone came forward with memories of a young man who resembled him. Best of all, a response might have come from the girl herself. A tentative reaching out toward the son she'd given up.

But a foreign student passing through for a few weeks of casual work? No wonder his hopes were dashed.

The security light snapped off, leaving them in sudden darkness.

"Thai or Indian?" she asked. "I don't mind which."

"Thai for choice." He started the engine. "I've got that flight to Auckland early tomorrow."

"Then I'd better get you into bed as soon as," she said, cursing herself for offering, but wanting to comfort him so much that surely just once more wouldn't matter?

"I...thought that wasn't on the menu?"

"After news like that I think you need a treat." She reached over and touched his chin. "I might try shaving you first or I'll end up with whisker rash."

His teeth glinted briefly. "All over the place."

Just the thought of it made her prickle everywhere in the most amazing way. "Hmmm," she managed, imagining where.

"How are you going to shave me, Roza?" His voice taunted her in the darkness. The security lights blasted on again as he started reversing down the driveway.

"With the razor I use under my arms."

"A little pink girlie thing, I bet? Might do for your soft female fluff, but not for what I grow. I need a triple-head top-of-the-line electric."

Rose hoped he was wrong. "We could do it in the bath," she said. "If it takes more than one go over I can rinse you off and try again."

Dimitri groaned—a long deep rumble of frustrated anticipation—as he switched the headlights on and accelerated into the street.

* * *

**We didn't have many reviews last chapter, could we hit more than 7?**

**7Becky7**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Rose and Dimitri ate hurriedly, both much hungrier for each other than for the excellent Thai takeaways they'd collected on the way to the apartment.

"Can you help me with one thing first?" Rose asked, laying down her fork. "I have some boxes on the back seat of the car. If we carry them up together it will probably only be one trip. I meant to do it last night, but..."

"But you were all sexed out?"

"Mmmm. They were the last thing on my mind."

"Good to know." He sent her a grin, and bent to scratch Zorro's furry head as the little cat wreathed herself around his legs in the hope of more dinner. "Let's see if I can distract you just as well tonight."

Rose already felt thoroughly distracted. Watching Dimitri across the table, and imagining what they'd soon be doing, had her switched to nicely warm, and she knew 'hot' would happen seconds after he touched her. "The boxes have everything I own in the world," she joked as she divided the start of another bottle of wine between their glasses. "I sold off or gave away Grandpa's furniture and other things. No point keeping it since I'm leaving the country. This is just some personal stuff and books. Memories. Christian can stow the boxes in his big garage while I'm gone. I should have offloaded them there before I left."

She took a nervous gulp of wine. Last night they'd spontaneously combusted and ended up in bed within minutes. Tonight was premeditated—she'd been anticipating making love ever since they left Greg and Olena's.

_Be honest, Rose—ever since you left work. Or ever since you had lunch with him?_

And they'd talked about it on the way home, deliberately winding each other up. She had no idea how they'd managed a civilized meal without ripping each other's clothes off.

Dimitri had already removed his leather jacket, but she itched to peel up his thin black Merino jersey so she could stroke and kiss his chest and shoulders. And to unzip his blue jeans and work them down his long legs...

"What's your itinerary?"

She dragged her mind back to their recent topic of conversation. "I haven't booked anything yet because I'm waiting for my passport, but you can get round-the-world air tickets that let you stop off lots of places. I thought Hawaii to start with. Somewhere English speaking but way different from here. Then Hong Kong. With a side trip to China—even if it's only a few days."

"Outer Mongolia?"

Rose had no idea whether he was poking fun at her or not. "Maybe," she agreed. "There are so many places I want to see."

"And you're going on your own?"

"You sound like Grandpa. But I'll meet people and make friends and take temporary jobs sometimes. I won't be lonely."

He shook his head but made no further comment about traveling. "Keys?" he suggested.

It took a moment for her to remember. Car keys. The boxes. "Oh, right." She found her bag and dug them out, then they took the elevator down to the parking basement.

"Two for me, one for you," Dimitri said, hefting the first box out and setting it on the concrete floor.

"That still leaves another."

"I'll come back for it. You clear the table."

But when they returned, they found Zorro was doing an efficient job of that. She'd licked the smears of sauce from their bowls, and one furry paw had hitched the last few Pad Thai Noodles out of the container. Golden eyes beseeched them to allow her to enjoy the delicious fishy sauce and remaining shrimp off the tabletop.

"Puss!" Rose exclaimed, setting down her heavy box.

"Leave her," Dimitri said as he lowered his own two to the floor. "Let her have her treat. We'll soon have ours." He reached out and drew her into a slow embrace, fitting the bulge of his groin into the notch of her thighs, lifting her arms and linking them around his neck, cupping her breasts in his hands, and finally settling his mouth over hers.

Rose felt herself sliding, deep into danger, deep into unwanted love.

They finally broke apart, breathless. Dimitri noticed Zorro had finished her snack and escaped to the balcony to avoid retribution.

"Go," Rose said, pushing him in the direction of the door. "Hurry."

She thought he needed encouraging? No way in hell—he'd jumped into this thing with her wholeheartedly. She'd become the ideal distraction after the disappointment of Greg's explanation for his missing mother.

A foreign student from thirty years ago? Impossible to track...impossible to find.

And if he was totally honest with himself, Rose had grabbed a bigger chunk of his attention than he'd expected. Right when he hadn't been looking for a woman, someone refreshing and undemanding had materialized. Someone he'd love to spend more time with. Hell, he'd already shared his house project with her. And she hadn't laughed—well, not too much.

She had a brain as well as a body. Was dynamite in bed. And determined to leave him.

He'd see about that.

Dimitri relished a challenge. How else had he gone from a boy with nothing to owner of a successful and ever-expanding fitness empire if not with ambition and determination? Rose didn't stand a chance. Slapping his pocket to check her keys were still there, he strode off to the elevator, whistling.

By the time he returned, she'd stacked the other boxes in a space beside the sofa, started the bath running, and cleared and cleaned the table top. Steam billowed from the open bathroom door. Bubbles threatened to spill over onto the floor.

He set the last box down beside the others. "You're giving me a bubble bath?"

Rose trotted out of the bedroom clutching two squat white candles.

He didn't know whether to be offended or thrilled. "And you're shaving me by candlelight?" This was getting better by the moment. "I'll end up a scraped and bleeding mess. We need a mirror and some shaving foam or we're not doing it."

"I know that," she said calmly. "I used to help Grandpa shave when he was shaky. It's not rocket science."

Dimitri's anticipation returned double-strong. Suddenly he couldn't wait to get naked with her and feel her hands on him.

And not just on his face.

"Shall I turn the bath off?"

"Got it," she said, smiling and beating him to it. She set the unlit candles on the vanity top and touched a can of shaving foam on the glass shelf above it. "This must be Kelly's boyfriend's. I'm sure he'll never miss one shave's worth."

She moved around the apartment pulling down blinds, twitching curtains closed and dimming the lights. Everything took on a private and sensuous air. Even the shiny white bathroom looked warm and inviting with the overhead lights off and soft radiance flooding in from the bedroom. "Thanks for bringing my boxes up."

He reached out and laid a finger on her lips. Soft and full, and with her lip gloss all kissed away. "Thanks for coming to my bloody awful parents' with me."

She nipped his hand. "Try not to feel bitter. You turned out well."

"Are you winding me up, Ms Hathaway?"

"I don't know. Am I?"

He loved the mock-innocent expression on her cheeky face. "What's it feel like to you?" He nudged against her, letting her know how aroused he was, longing to grab her and pull her in close, but perversely enjoying that she wanted to control the pace of the evening and call the shots herself.

She tipped her head on one side. "Like you turned out well and got wound up." She cupped a hand around him.

Dimitri gave silent thanks.

It was a very small distance to his zipper. And this time she slid it down so slowly he soon felt ready to beg.

He reached for his jersey.

"Uh-uh. That's my job."

His hands fell to his sides again, and he hoped she'd hurry it along a little.

She deserted his jeans and switched to his jersey hem. Not good. Now he wished she'd kept going on the jeans.

He flinched as she pushed the soft knit fabric up his ticklish belly and followed it with a line of kisses. The drift of her lips over his skin soon had every inch of him alight with anticipation. He closed his eyes and enjoyed, raising his arms as the fabric hit chest level.

"You'll never reach," he said, dragging the jersey up past his head and off his arms. He tossed it out into the bedroom.

Rose took half a step back and surveyed him. He knew he was in good shape—hell, given his business he had to be—but he really hoped she liked what she saw.

He watched as her gaze ran down from his face to his chest. Flicked sideways to check out his shoulders. Carried on down his torso as far as his jeans. It was just as well she'd unzipped him because by now he'd be damned uncomfortable if she hadn't.

No praise or compliment. Just a quiet nod. Or had he caught a wicked gleam in her dark eyes?

She wrestled his jeans undone and inched them slowly down to his knees, collecting his briefs with her thumbs on the way down. Still no comment.

"Shoes," she finally said. So at last he was allowed to help? He finished undressing at a much faster pace. Rose held out her hands for the rest of his clothing and took it through to the bedroom.

He reached toward her the instant she returned.

She pointed like a bossy schoolmarm. "In the bath."

"I didn't think this was a one-way deal."

"It won't be. Get in the bath."

It was hard not to grin at her. She thought she could order him around when he was naked. He plopped his hand in again to test the water, found it fine, and climbed in. Then he lounged back, linked his hands behind his head, and waited.

Rose left.

But not for long.

Ten seconds later, she returned with one of her heavy boxes. She plunked it down on the floor beside the bath, laid a towel over it, and fetched a basin from the kitchen and the small mirror he'd seen propped up on the bedroom chest. She turned aside to fill the basin with warm water and put both in easy reach on top of the box.

Then she ran some steamy water into the sink and wrung out a washcloth.

"Sit up," she urged. She dropped to her knees and began to wash his face as though he was six years old.

"Hey," he objected, trying to lean away from the hot cloth.

"No, it's good for your skin. It opens the pores and lets the hairs relax. Hold still." She re-soaked the cloth and arranged it over his face. "Lie back again for a minute and let it work."

So she really did know what she was doing? He hadn't expected that. He felt absurd—like a terrorist with everything but his eyes concealed—but he was willing to play along in case she was right.

Once the cloth had cooled a little, she drew it aside and reached for the can of shaving foam. She hissed out a handful and spread it down his jaw, over his chin, and more carefully across his top lip.

Dimitri's pulse kicked up several notches, imagining Rose as his own personal slave girl. He'd had hundreds of haircuts and dozens of massages, but no-one had ever shaved him. He held his breath as she crouched closer, concentrating on getting the foam every place she needed it.

"Chin up higher."

Her fingers smoothed down his neck, making him feel like he was a big tomcat being petted. Danger hung lightly in the air. The thought of her wielding a sharp little blade against his throat had his balls tightening, his cock lurching.

He'd always thought risk intensified the thrill of sex. Did that go right back to the orchard and the illicit games he'd played with her when he was sixteen?

Discovery and exposure had been a constant threat then, adding to his arousal level, whipping the itch to almost intolerable heights. Tonight he felt doubly turned on, stimulated by the magic atmosphere and Rose's teasing domination. Whatever followed, he was up for it. Way up.

Finally she drew away, rinsed her hands and smiled. She bent and unzipped her boots.

And just when it seemed she at last intended undressing she said, "Oh, the candles," and disappeared.

Dimitri sighed gustily, leaned back against the end of the bath, and linked his hands behind his head again. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath of warm scented air. The sharp sound of a match striking made him jerk them open a few seconds later.

Rose concentrated on the candles on the vanity top until their flames burned steadily. Then she pushed them nearer the bath so their warm flicker and vanilla fragrance added to the sensual atmosphere.

Finally, finally, she answered Dimitri's dreams and began to strip.

First, the long-sleeved cream top that had driven him mad all day. Yesterday's zipper had tempted him beyond reason, but today, in this floaty swirly cream thing, she'd been somehow even more desirable.

She gathered up the hem, lifted it so her curvy waist showed, slid it up past her bra. His eyes traveled in time with her hands, noting every swell and hollow. His arms came down from behind his head, ready to welcome her into the water.

Rose pulled the top off and turned so she could drop it onto the bedroom floor. The candle-glow shadowed the line of her spine, the flare of her hips. Dimitri swallowed, so ready to get his hands on her lovely body he feared his cock would soon rear out through the bubbles.

She unfastened her jeans and started to glide them down her silky legs. He groaned with frustration and she sent him a dimpled grin. Seconds later she wore only a sheer bra and tiny panties, both trimmed with criss-crossing lines of shiny ribbon in lemon and apricot and white.

"Oh, the razor," she murmured, opening the doors of the vanity and searching inside. Dimitri leaned out and settled a hand onto the curve of her butt, stroked over the flimsy fabric and then down her thigh, hungry to touch her and draw her closer. "You're killing me," he growled. "Get in the bath."

Did that sound like desperation? He feared it did. He didn't do desperate with women.

She set the razor down on the box beside the bowl and he shook his head at her optimism. Yes, it was a girlie pink toy—how did she think that would cope with his male bristle? But his attention switched instantly back to Rose as she unhooked her bra. The gossamer weave parted from her creamy skin. She stroked the straps down her arms. Dimitri's pulse pounded as her half-hidden nipples peeked out to greet him. God, she was wonderful.

Beautiful, provoking, playful. And his again very soon.


	14. Chapter 14

**OMG I'm so sorry for not updating in a long time! I had a soccer camp then had to fly over to NSW for a soccer game. Then I had Halloween to think of. Thank you to the people who are surprisingly _still_ supporting me! As I said, I'm sorry!**

**There is a bit of a tease a bit to the end but the real lemon is at the bottom. Sorry if it's too short!**

***Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy. Richelle Mead does!***

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Rose held the bra between two fingers, gave it a sexy little swish, and tossed it through onto the bedroom carpet.

"Get in the bath," Dimitri repeated, hoarse entreaty in his voice.

"But I've still got my panties on," she teased, stepping close enough for him to peel them down. If he hadn't been coated in shaving foam he'd have buried his face between her thighs the moment he uncovered her. Instead, he consoled himself by grabbing her hand so she couldn't escape again.

"Get in here with me right now," he ground out.

She stepped out of her pretty panties and kicked them towards the doorway, then lifted a small foot and set it down between his thighs. Only then did he believe it would happen.

"I wonder how we're both going to fit?" She sent him a wide eyed mock-innocent grin.

"We'll manage." He tugged on her hand to encourage her to take the last step.

She sank down through the bubbles. The water rose higher up his chest. At last she was where he wanted her, but just to make sure he looped his legs around her waist and pulled her closer until they were face to face. "Are you really going to do this?" he asked.

Rose nodded and reached out for the razor. After a few seconds' intense concentration she cradled the side of his head in her hand and tilted it back.

"Stay just like that." Her fingers moved to his neck, held the skin taut. The razor slid around his chin and bit gently into his beard.

"Ha," she murmured. "No worries. You didn't think I could, did you?"

She reached sideways and swished it in the bowl to clean it. Another firm grip. Another expert glide downward. The steam swirled around them, and in the silent apartment Dimitri heard the faint scrape of his stubble capitulating. The blade dragged slightly against his skin. He wondered how long the edge would hold. He was totally in her hands—and the feeling was amazing.

She rinsed the razor again, and leaned closer to select the site for her next pass. Dimitri closed his eyes to intensify the feeling. Again she pulled his skin taut, again she guided the blade with the grain.

"I don't think this shaving foam is as good as Grandpa's English shaving soap," she said. "Not as slippery. You'd enjoy it more if we had some of that."

Dimitri couldn't imagine enjoying anything more than this. The feel of her hands on him, the glide of the blade, the soft swishing as she rinsed it, all combined into a sensuous ritual that excited as much as it soothed.

After several more long slow strokes and a couple of short scary ones under his nose, she picked up the washcloth and wiped half his face clean. "No blood," she teased, running her fingers over his skin. She reached out for the mirror and held it so he could check her work. "Okay?"

He turned his head from side to side. He had to admit she'd done well. So well he'd forgotten about Greg and Olena and his twisted adoption for a while. She was certainly some distraction, but now his past had crept back into his mind again to niggle and abrade at him. "How long since your grandmother died?" he asked.

Her face showed surprise at his sudden change of subject. "Eleven years or so. Why?"

"Just wondering what sort of power she had over the old bastard to make him return me during the holidays so she could check my progress. What the hell was her connection? There's got to be one."

Rose shrugged. A pretty breast rose and fell each side of the mirror she held up for him. Bubbles clung to her skin. He reached out to touch, cupped her gently, and couldn't resist running his thumbs across her dusky nipples.

She smiled and swapped the mirror for the razor. "Ready for the rest?"

When he didn't respond, she reached down with her free hand and found his cock. That sharpened his attention in a hurry.

* * *

Just before midnight, Rose sighed and stretched, conscious Dimitri needed to leave soon. She rubbed a bare foot over his calf and enjoyed the sensation of soft hair over firm muscle.

The apartment was quiet and dark, finally tranquil after several intense and passionate hours.

She smiled, listening to his breath flowing in and out. Occasionally he stirred or snuffled—a man at peace, at last able to escape from the torment and upheaval of his recent wrenching discovery. At least she'd been able to give him that.

She shouldn't have gone to his parents' home. His adoption was none of her business, and she hadn't been the least help anyway. It was too much of a personal connection to him, and she'd vowed not to get entangled.

And as for joking about shaving him while they sat in his car once they'd left—look what that had led to!

But it felt intoxicating being able to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted, with no concerns about Grandpa, querulous and worried, waiting for her to return home. And with no unease he might fall and hurt himself if she went out. She'd loved him very dearly, but her duty toward him was now complete.

So why, now she was free, had she started looking after another man? Consoling Dimitri, and putting herself in danger of falling for him?

She grimaced at her deceitful description of 'consoling'. She'd made him a straight-out lustful proposition of sex last night. She was fooling herself pretending there was an element of friendly consolation. She'd made the first move and he'd followed all too willingly.

Why had she made such a terrible choice? Her boss!

And more than her boss. Her fascinating old partner in crime, too. The boy who'd stolen her heart all those years ago and somehow kept a corner of it. The boy who'd first stirred feelings that were dangerous and thrilling and secret. And who now stirred feelings too deep and special to admit—even to herself.

Just as well he'd be out of town tomorrow—it would give her a day to try and regain her equilibrium. A day and a night, because she'd booked his flight back to Wellington as late as possible so he could dine with friends.

And maybe she should do the same? She decided to see if Lissa and Christian were free, and treat them to dinner as a thank you for letting her stay with them. It might have to be takeaways though, because their sons had school next day.

"You trying to wake me up?" Dimitri murmured, responding to her questing toes.

"I guess you need to go home and pack a bag for Auckland." She snuggled a little closer, hating the thought of him leaving.

"Hand luggage. Just my briefcase."

It felt magic to be curled against him, protected and warmed by his big body. She'd never in her twenty-six years spent a whole night asleep beside a man. "Do you want to stay?" she heard herself suggest. "I can set the alarm for early."

Roza, you're crazy. Don't make this harder than it already is.

"I'll wake. I'm an early riser."

She just bet he was...

"Hmmm..." she hummed sleepily, overcome with delicious languor at the thought of spending hours cuddled up with him. "G'night then."

* * *

Dimitri must have made check-in with only moments to spare. Rose smiled as she trekked up the stairs to BodyWork, remembering why he'd ended up in a mad dash an hour earlier.

His fault. Absolutely his fault. If he hadn't insisted they'd showered together he'd have been out of the apartment much earlier, into his business clothes much earlier, into his seat on the plane much earlier. Instead he'd just been into her. And she really had to do something about it.

Waking to feel the weight of a well muscled arm around her waist, finding she was tucked back against a very aroused man who smelled like sin and sex, she'd spent a few slightly panicked moments wondering if she'd died and gone to heaven.

No, no dying required. Heaven available in big hot chunks.

"Come and wash me down," he'd suggested, pushing the bedcovers back and standing rampant in the dawn half-light.

Rose snapped on the bedside lamp. Oh. My. God.

"You start washing, I'll make coffee," she countered, knowing how much he liked a caffeine hit as soon as he arrived at BodyWork. She'd found Kelly's coffee machine concealed in one of the lower cupboards.

"Deal. But don't be long." He sauntered through to the en suite bathroom while she scurried out to the kitchen. She made use of the guest toilet while the coffee brewed, and soon returned with two white mugs wafting deep dark coffee aromas.

"In there or out here?"

"In here."

She carried the mugs into the bathroom and set them down on the vanity. Dimitri stood under the shower jets, soaping up. "You're managing perfectly well without me," she said, stopping a moment to admire the view through the glass shower wall.

A long arm shot out and grabbed her wrist. "Need my back scrubbed. Might need my front scrubbed, too."

Rose quickly shucked her robe. He drew her in under the shower and pulled her close. Half blinded by the pelting water, she shut her eyes and felt his lips glide down the side of her face to the corner of her mouth. His slippery hands cupped her breasts, squeezing gently, massaging her nipples until they beaded into tight peaks. At last he kissed her, long and deep, hungry and hot.

"Give me the soap then," she agreed when he released her. Every sense had come alive. Her skin felt super-aware. Dimitri's own scent swirled through the hot damp air. The soap added another layer of fragrance. The rush of the water, his murmured suggestions of 'touch me, touch me' sank into her ears.

She moved a little aside to get her face out of the water. Through spiky lashes she watched as Dimitri turned his back to her and leaned against the shower wall, feet braced apart. How could she resist him? Simply not possible.

Switching off the water she ran the soap across his shoulders, kneading his slippery skin with her other hand, making him grunt with pleasure. Slowly down his spine, pushing into the lines of defined muscle either side. Over his cute butt, now clenched tight. Down and around his thighs and calves, hard and hairy and male.

"Turn around, Dimitri."

* * *

And front-on he looked even better. She soaped over his chest, pushing her hands up to his neck, out over his shoulders, down through the dark hair that covered his pecs. And then down his long streamlined torso to his ever-hopeful cock and heavy balls.

She watched his eyelids droop closed, and she set the soap aside. Now both her hands kneaded and massaged together, gentler where they needed to be. He groaned as she teased him, cock jerking in her hands as she stroked up and down his length.

"I want that inside you," he growled, opening his eyes and fixing them on hers.

"There's no time, Dimitri. You won't even get your coffee. You'll miss your plane."

"I can get another flight."

"No—you have appointments to keep."

"I've got one hell of a hard-on and need to come."

She bit her lip at his forthright description, and her internal muscles clenched in delicious quivers just thinking about it. She handed him the soap. "Lather me up and then we'll rinse off together."

"We could do it right here."

"Not a hope. We're too slippery. You haven't got a condom. And there's still no time."

"We'll see about that," he growled, making a rapid assault on her, soaping and caressing her all over as she slithered against him, laughing and squealing.

He turned the water back on, lifted the shower head from its holder and rinsed her off, then aimed it at his chest. Rose escaped, grabbed a towel, and did her best to blot herself dry. Dimitri burst out of the bathroom seconds later, making only the most cursory effort with his towel before he sheathed himself.

She scrambled up onto the bed, giggling as she tried to escape. In a flash, he'd caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him. She felt his cock slide between her thighs, rubbing in her slippery juices. God, she was so turned on! He pulled away, adjusted his angle, and drove in, deep and sure.

Rose curved over and laid her forehead on the bed, absorbing the sensation of the different position. Then his hand dipped low and found her clit.

"Come for me first," he whispered, rubbing as he pumped slowly and sweetly. "I want to feel your muscles grabbing me."

She trembled all over as her nerve endings responded to his insistent rhythm. "I can't...do it to order," she protested.

"Yes you can. Just a quickie. Come for me now."

He thrust faster, fondling with slick fingers. Rose squeezed her eyes closed. The warm tide of orgasm lapped closer. Seconds later, she gulped a huge breath as everything tightened and tightened, and finally released in deep surging spasms. Dimitri climaxed a moment behind her, breath hissing through his teeth, and then escaping in a long low groan of satisfaction.

* * *

**I've just had some news. The earliest I can update is next week :(**

**I'm sorry! I'll try to do a double chapter though.**

**7Becky7**


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